


I Know Places

by ericaismeg



Series: Erica Loves You [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorable Isaac, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Assistant Isaac Lahey, Awesome Laura Hale, BAMF Lydia Martin, Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Coming Out, Cute, Dating, Emails, Famous Derek, Famous Stiles, First Dates, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heartbroken Lydia Martin, Interviews, Isaac Feels, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski & Lydia Martin Friendship, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Jackson Feels, Jackson Has Issues, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Manager Lydia Martin, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Paparazzi, Rich Derek, Rich Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Comes Out, Tabloids, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3106058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/ericaismeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is tired of the fame and the media that comes with being a famous actor. Lydia, his manager, gives him a three week break from his social calendar while his agent, Peter, is off doing who knows what, who knows where. At the last function before his break, Stiles finally meets Derek Hale - the nephew that Peter has been shunned by for the past six and a half years.</p>
<p>Stiles knows how twisted the tabloids get things, it's why he's avoided doing anything remotely scandalous for his entire life. But when Derek Hale wants to get coffee with him, Stiles doesn't care what anyone else says. He's going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know Places

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Candles_93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candles_93/gifts).



> This is for my lovely and gorgeous, [Becky](http://www.screwitanddoitanyway.tumblr.com), who kindly donated money to me back in September when my laptop died. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this fic out to you, but I hope you like it.
> 
> Also this summary sucks.
> 
> And this is unbeta'd and written in about seven hours. _Please_ let me know if anything doesn't match up, there are any glaring errors, etc. etc. I was half-asleep when I wrote the biggest chunk of that, so my quick glance over probably missed some stuff.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

 

“Lydia,” Stiles calls down the hall. He grips the door frame with one hand and leans out so he can hear her answer better. He lets his free arm hang loose and he waits, frowning. There's no way she hadn't heard him. He swears she has him bugged because she always knows exactly when he's about to call her half the time. “ _Lyd_ -ia.”

Her room swings open and she steps out. Stiles inhales sharply and almost loses his grip on the door frame because _wow_ , Lydia Martin looks like a goddess tonight. Her hair's done up with curls and a small silver headband, her makeup is perfect, and her floor-length baby blue dress leaves a little drool in the corner of Stiles' mouth.

She ignores the way he stumbles to stand up straight, and gives him her best look of disapproval. “Stilinski, why aren't you changed?”

“I,” he starts off, shrugging. He closes his mouth because he has to get a grip. He's been over his crush on Lydia for years, but still she manages to awe the hell out of him with her beauty. He straightens his shoulders and then winces. “I was hoping you could help me? I know this is a huge banquet, and I don't know what to wear.”

Lydia sighs, disappearing into her room without another word. He isn't sure if that means she's helping him or not, but he doesn't move. A minute later, she's wearing heels, holding a black clutch, and shutting her room door behind her. She shoos him. “Get into your room. I swear to god, you don't pay me enough for this shit.”

“You're right, I don't. Want a raise?” Stiles asks, smiling up at her. They both know that Lydia could make twice the amount she's currently making as his manager, but neither of them had discussed it because Stiles sends that money to a few charities around the world. She swats his head before she puts her hands on his shoulders and steers him towards his closet. Lydia studies the few suits he has hanging up and sighs.

“I don't know why I put up with you,” she murmurs. But then she's reaching into his closet and choosing something for him to wear. “Stiles, strip out of your pajamas.”

If he hadn't expected her to demand just that, he might have been nervous. However, they've come a long way since his crush on her in grade school. Now she's his fearless manager and lifeline. Stiles surely wouldn't have made it this far without Lydia by his side. She doesn't look twice at him when she tosses him the pants.

Stiles can remember when he'd scored that acting job in his final year of high school. It'd been a fluke, really. That's what he always said to the interviewers. _It was a fluke._ People always laughed, and yet Stiles feels as though he's the one missing the joke. Was it that hard for people to believe that it was a fluke?

He'd been the production assistant manager of a play at his school. When the lead had been unable to make it, and his backup had told Stiles he hadn't learned any of the lines, Stiles had swooped in. He'd become the star of the show, and for whatever reason, famous Peter Hale had seen something in Stiles that he'd liked.

He'd approached Stiles afterward, explaining that he'd been here to see his niece, Cora, be a tree. He told Stiles that he'd like to be his agent, and Stiles had agreed on a whim. Well, Peter had meant serious business. He'd gotten Stiles a few auditions for small parts which grew into bigger parts. Then he'd scored Stiles an audition for a movie called, _It's About Howl Time_. Overnight, Stiles had become famous.

Stiles hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd called up Lydia and begged for her to come be his assistant. She'd refused, said she'd be his manager, and flew out to L.A. two days later. She now works with Peter to make sure that Stiles maintains a grew image for youth and young kids, while also have a name that commands respect from his peers in the industry.

“You look great,” Lydia tells him with approval when he's finished changing. After spending so much time with Lydia, Stiles has to admit that he's comfortable around her as though she was his sister. There's zero sexual tension between them, and he realizes that now. God, things used to be easier when he was tripping over his own two feet to get her attention. At least then he could say the reason he's still single is because he's in love with Lydia.

Now he doesn't have much of an excuse for being single. The media seems to use that in their favour.

She sighs and then adds, “Stiles, you have to be on your _best_ behaviour tonight. No stupid shit, okay?”

“You mean, don't knock over the ice sculpture again,” Stiles mumbles. He looks at himself in the mirror and Lydia comes to stand beside him. She smooths out the material of his jacket and then leans against him.

“I mean exactly that. And quit hanging around single women,” she advises. “I'm tired of having you in the tabloids as the guy who keeps getting his heart broken.”

“Maybe I should be more like Derek Hale,” Stiles murmurs to her. “Be the heart-breaker instead of the heart-break-ee.”

Lydia sniffs. “I don't think Derek Hale is a good example to lead by. Except he refused to have anything to do with Peter, so perhaps there's some good in him yet.”

“Have you figured out a way to get me out of my contract?” Stiles asks, hopeful.

She shakes her head and fixes his tie. “No. You'll be stuck with him for the rest of the term, which is only six months. It could be worse. I have no idea what you were thinking when you signed on with him for _seven_ years. You should've hired me long before then.”

Stiles shrugs. “I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Clearly. He was good.”

“He's dangerous,” Lydia tells him for the hundredth time. She nods her approval at his tie and then looks up at him, hands still on his chest. “You'll be okay tonight?”

“Yeah.” Stiles tries not to think about his anger at Peter. The guy had tried to swindle him out of millions. That money should be going to charities, it should be moving forward to _help_ people, not to pay for Peter's new car.

Hell, Stiles hadn't seen Peter in a little over a week now. The asshole had disappeared on some trip without saying a word to Stiles. Just sent him a text from Italy or wherever saying he'd be back when he felt like it

Stiles shifts on his feet. “Think any of Peter's family will be there tonight?”

“No,” Lydia says, shaking her head. “What is your obsession with them anyway? You've been working with Peter for six and a half years now. You haven't even met them in that time, and this is the third function that you've asked me about whether they'd be there or not.”

“I just...I want to know why Peter is such a dick,” Stiles says, running his hand through his hair. It draws Lydia's attention and she sighs. She silently directs Stiles to sit down on a chair and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. She comes back with some mousse and doesn't say anything. Stiles rubs his hands together and looks at them in the mirror again. “Don't you want to know why he's so greedy? There has to be a reason. Maybe his parents were—”

“Stiles,” Lydia says, voice soft and filled with warning. “Let it go.”

“But maybe if I just met a Hale I could—”

“Stiles, they refuse to show anywhere that Peter's going. Hell, they refuse to be anywhere that they know he's been _invited_. Be grateful Peter isn't here to make it tonight, and let it go,” Lydia repeats. She starts moving her hands through his hair. “Six more months and then you'll be free of him.”

“You'll be my agent and PR manager then,” Stiles says, keeping his voice soft. “Do you ever regret following me from high school?”

Lydia looks at his reflection in the mirror, expression thoughtful. Then she shakes her head. “No, no, I don't. I'm good at what I do. Now, make my job easy tonight. No single women, no sniffing for Hale gossip, and three drink maximum.”

Stiles nods. “Yes ma'am.”

She looks at him, pouting a little. “Why do I think that you're going to do the exact opposite of that?”

“I'm not!” Stiles defends.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

It turns out to be a lie. Stiles is standing at the bar, talking to a lovely woman named Malia, who he finds out fifteen minutes into their conversation is most definitely single and most definitely hitting on him. Stiles is at his three drink maximum but then Malia's running a hand up his arm and he's asking the bartender for another. He gives her a nervous smile and then stammers, “This has...this has been nice, Malia...”

“Malia Tate,” she offers. She keeps her eyes on him, licking her lips slightly as if he's a prize she's about to win. “Stiles, it's been so lovely talking to you. Would you like to get out of here?”

Stiles swallows deeply, glancing around the room as Malia's hand dances up his thigh. He grabs her wrist and gently moves her hand away. “I'm sorry, but I can't. It's been nice talking to you. If you'd ever like to get a coffee sometime and talk about your new project, I would be happy to.”

He hands her Lydia's business card.

“There's my manager's number.”

_Abort, abort, abort_ , his brain screams but it's too late. Malia's eyeing him with disbelief. She holds up the card and scoffs. “Wait, what? I thought—why have you been talking to me if you weren't interested?”

“I was—interested,” he stammers. “In your new project.”

Malia rolls her eyes. “Great. I finally find a man who listens, and he only wants to listen about my new project. God, is everything about advancing your own career?”

“Well, no, but—”

It's no use. Malia's not listening to him anymore. She's pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the bar. “I'm an attractive woman, am I not?”

“No, you are, it's just—”

It's too late. Stiles' has offended her. Malia tosses the glass of water in his face and storms off. There are a few people who see and rush after her, clearly unconcerned with Stiles. He holds his arms out in surprise and sputters, unsure what to do. Lydia is going to _kill_ him.

A blonde woman behind him starts to laugh and he turns to give her a glare, because she's enjoying herself a little too much. She shakes her head and pouts. “Oh, puppy, are you okay? Do you want me to see if I can get you a towel?”

She's handing him napkins as she speaks and Stiles hates her a little less. He accepts the napkins and dries his face first. “Thanks. I would appreciate that.”

“Don't worry about Malia. If you were stranded on an island, she'd be the first to kill and eat you for her own survival,” the blonde tells him, with a shake of her head. “It'd be bad for her image if she'd been rejected, so she made it seem like she was rejecting you.”

Stiles presses his lips together and nods, hating the world they live in. Everything is always about image, image, image. Stiles wonders what Scott's going to say about this. He's sure it'll be in the papers by tomorrow morning, if it's not already on social media. He feels his phone buzzing and ignores it. It's probably Lydia calling to yell at him from the other side of the ballroom.

“Excuse me,” the blonde says to the bartender. She leans forward a little more so the girl gets an eyeful of her cleavage. The bartender smiles warmly and ignores the man at the other end to walk back towards the blonde. “Hi, could you order my friend here a towel?”

“That's not really what I do,” the bartender says, teasing tone. “But anything for you.”

“Thanks,” she says, leaning back. The bartender disappears into the back. Stiles gives the blonde an appreciative smile. “Name's Erica.”

“Stiles.”

“I know who you are,” Erica responds easily. “I don't live under a rock, idiot.”

“Hey,” Stiles says, but he finds himself smiling anyway. He tosses his used napkins onto the bar before he moves closer to her. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And before you get any ideas, I'm happily engaged.” Erica flashes him her ring.

“No ideas here,” Stiles says, sitting on the stool beside her. “I'm just happy someone's being friendly here. I hate these things. I hate dressing up. I feel like a dork. I came from a small town. Hell, I didn't even really dress up for my prom. Not really. I looked good because Lydia made sure I would, but I think I spent sixty bucks. My _tie_ is worth twice as much.”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Oh poor baby. Wearing designer clothing because he's super famous and super rich. Cry me a river.”

“You're mean,” Stiles murmurs, because he already knows Erica won't take it to heart. She doesn't. She tosses her head back and laughs.

“You'll get used to it,” she promises.

“Who's the lucky one who gets to marry you for life?” Stiles asks.

“Who says it'll be for life?” Erica retorts. “In this industry, a marriage could last three minutes and be considered long.”

“I—” Stiles shrugs. “I guess I'm a hopeless romantic. I want to believe that there's someone out there who can handle me for the rest of our lives. I want to grow old with someone who I care about endlessly.”

Erica ponders this for a moment, takes a sip of her drink, before she says, “I agree. That's why I'm marrying my soul mate.”

“How do you know he's your soul mate?” Stiles asks, just before the bartender comes back with a smile and gives them a round on the house. Stiles glances at the Coke and whiskey before him, debating whether he should have it or not. He was already one drink over Lydia's limit. One more couldn't hurt.

“Because he looks at me the same way no matter what mood I'm in,” Erica tells him. She gets a softer expression on her face. “I could go streaking right now, and he'd still have the same look on his face.”

“What does it look like?” Stiles asks, finding himself more curious than he should be.

“It's soft, quiet, amused. His eyes light up and he looks at me as though the sun shines out my ass. It's...hard to describe. You'll know it when you see it,” Erica promises. “What's your story?”

“My story?” Stiles asks, confused. He picks up his glass and takes a sip.

“Yeah. Not the one in the tabloids of you failing at picking out good women. Your _actual_ story,” Erica says. She eyes him carefully, as though she's prepared to catch him in a lie. Stiles has to admire her—and not because she's stunning in her bright yellow dress, but because she's easy to talk to and seems very down to earth. It's hard to find that in people these days.

He shrugs. “I haven't found anyone yet.”

“Stiles,” Erica says in a tone that says she's calling his bull shit.

“I'm bisexual,” he blurts. His eyes grow wide. Few, few people know that about him. He's been trying to keep the media out of it for now, unprepared to deal with the interviews about how he could possibly know he was bisexual without ever having been with a man (he's been with more than one, but they wouldn't know that). The comments he would read on the internet, or the Twitter battles. Stiles isn't prepared to deal with any of it. Not yet, anyway. He doesn't want his sexuality to be the only thing about him that people care about.

Erica studies him. She takes a sip of her drink and then, when she places the glass back onto the bar, she says, “You're cheating your fans out of a great role model.”

Stiles blinks. That's the last thing he'd expected someone to say when a famous actor, such as himself, comes out as bisexual. “Excuse me?”

“Your fans,” Erica says, her voice quiet. “You're being selfish by keeping that to yourself. Think about your fans who are struggling with their own sexualities. They could be looking up to you for inspiration, for help, for support, and you are denying them that.”

“Erica—” But Stiles has no words. He doesn't know what to say. He's known Erica for less than five minutes and she's already pointed out the biggest flaw in keeping his secret. She's shown him something he'd never even considered. Peter. Peter had argued that Stiles keep it a secret. He wanted to book Stiles a gig where he plays a gay man. Then they'd come out with the announcement. He wanted to make money off it, because that's all Peter cares about.

Lydia had seen the financial benefit, but had told Stiles she'd support him no matter what his decision.

It'd been so damn easy to coast as a heterosexual these past six and a half years of his fame. So easy. No one had ever questioned his sexuality, and he'd never given them a reason to. Stiles looks at Erica, his lips parting, and he's at a loss for words.

“I—” Stiles looks down at his drink. _Fuck_. Erica's right. He chugs the rest of his drink.

“Whoa, puppy. Don't feel too bad,” Erica says, soothing tone. “It's _okay_ to be selfish. You have to protect yourself first. If you come out, you'll be a target for a lot of homophobia. Trust me, I've been there.”

Stiles blinks, confused.

“Derek Hale,” Erica tells him. “I'm his manager. When he came out as bisexual, it was pretty tough on him for the first little while. It gets easier, puppy.”

“For fuck's sake,” Stiles mutters. He takes another swig of his drink and realizes, with heavy disappointment, that it's empty. “Not only do I come out to a stranger, but the stranger happens to be my rival's manager.”

Erica tilts her head. “Since when are you and Derek rivals?”

“Well, I just assumed anyone associated with Peter is probably a rival of Derek's.” Stiles shrugs. “Lydia's going to _kill_ me. You can totally use this to destroy my career and make Derek's better.”

“Stiles,” Erica says, glaring at him. “You might not know me very well, but I think it's painfully clear that I am _not_ the type of person who would out someone who clearly isn't very comfortable with the idea. No matter the professional gain it might get me.”

Erica stands up, shoulders back, chin up. Stiles frowns. “Erica, I'm sorry, I—”

“Do _not_ apologize,” she snaps. “You might want to consider the company you keep if you assume that everything is about getting higher up in the industry by destroying someone else's image.”

“I didn't mean to offend...” Stiles sighs because Erica's already gone. “You.”

“Your towel, sir,” the bartender says, holding out a green towel.

Stiles grimaces in thanks and dabs at his suit. How the hell does he always manage to make a mess of everything? He tries to find Erica and her yellow dress in the crowd but his eyes land on Lydia Martin marching towards him. _Oh fuck._

“It's already on Twitter,” she snaps. “How? How did you manage it?”

“Erica said—”

“I'm talking about Malia Tate—the lovely cousin to the Hales that you're so obsessed with?” Lydia interrupts. “What did you say to have a drink thrown on you?”

“First off, it was _water_. Secondly, I told her that I wasn't interested in her and she reacted badly,” Stiles says, sheepish look.

Lydia sighs. “Okay, well, that's not the story that's going around. I'm going to have to do some damage control. _You_ find Malia and offer her apology. See if you can get her to make an official statement about the _misunderstanding_ you two had. Ask her on a date. Say you get nervous around gorgeous, successful women.”

“I—”

“Do it now,” Lydia mutters, “or I swear to God, I'll make you regret your entire life.”

“Got it,” Stiles says, hopping off the bar. He takes the towel with him as he rushes through the crowds, looking for Malia Tate. She's cousin to the Hale family? _Man_ , he had no luck. Stiles pauses near an empty cruiser table and tries to spot the woman. She's nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for someone?” a voice comes from behind him.

Stiles glances over his shoulder and then freezes. Derek Hale in the flesh. “I—”

“I know most people here. I could help you look,” Derek offers, without a hint of a smile. In fact, he looks annoyed at offering to help Stiles.

Stiles spins around to face Derek. “Thanks, but, um, I'm okay and—”

“Stiles,” Derek says, dropping his voice a little. “If you're looking for Malia, she's in the coat check room making out with her girlfriend. I'd advise you get over any crush you have on her right now. She wouldn't have done anything with you anyway.”

Stiles' jaw drops. _Oh boy_. Tonight's all about secrets coming into light apparently. He shifts on his feet and then steps a little closer to Derek, afraid of being overheard. “Tell Malia that I would like a public apology for our misunderstanding and that I genuinely liked talking to her _platonically_. I would appreciate that, Mr. Hale.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Derek.”

Stiles nods, throat a little tight. “Will you tell her?”

“I'll tell her,” Derek answers. He leans away from Stiles, and that's when he realizes they'd gotten awfully close for two people who hadn't met before. Stiles jumps back some more. He sticks out his hand, and Derek accepts. Anyone looking at them now would assume they're exchanging polite introductions, except they'd jumped pass that into a serious conversation.

“Girlfriend?” Stiles prompts, still keeping his voice down. He searches Derek's face. “I didn't realize she was...actually, I didn't even know she was your cousin until a few minutes ago.”

Derek smiles now. “Keep your head out of the tabloids then?”

“Yeah, something like that.” If Stiles didn't, he would get overwhelmed with all of the fake stuff being printed about him. A few years ago, it bothered him so much that he secretly made a blog to correct all of the things being said about him. Then that had come into light and he quit doing it because suddenly all of his fans were there, exhausting every drop of energy he had.

He's sick and tired of seeing the tabloids constantly saying he was sad or heartbroken about some woman he'd talked to for five minutes. It was ridiculous how easily they stretched the story to suit themselves.

He's sure famous heart-breaker Derek feels the same. Stiles can't remember the last time he'd heard about Derek breaking someone's heart, to be honest, but he'd done it enough when he was younger that the nickname had stuck apparently.

“Smart move. She's not ready to be public with her girlfriend yet, so you're another one of her fake love interests. Don't take it personally, please. She doesn't mean harm.”

“I—” Stiles sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “I don't. I just wish she hadn't chosen me. The tabloids already think I've had my heartbroken too many times.”

Derek seems to study Stiles for a moment. “How's my uncle?”

_Yeah, okay,_ Stiles thinks, _let's just dive right in._ “He's...alright. My contract ends with him in half a year.”

“Are you signing on with him again?” Derek asks, and to anyone eavesdropping it might seem like an innocent tone. However, Stiles knows well enough that after everything the Hales have been through—paying some important people to keep their mouths shut so it stays private and mysterious—this question holds a lot more than it seems.

“I expect you'll keep it between us,” Stiles tells him. “But I've decided to...”

“Stiles Stilinski,” Lydia's cool voice comes beside him suddenly. She hooks her arm in his. “There's someone over here that you absolutely _have_ to meet.”

“Lydia,” Stiles says, keeping his tone tight.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Derek,” Lydia says, as though she's familiar with him. By the amused expression on Derek's, they _are_ familiar with each other. Stiles is about to question it when Lydia's spinning him away and walking quickly towards the open doors. They step out onto the wide balcony. She drops her voice. “Stiles, you've broken every single rule I had tonight.”

“Sorry,” he says, sheepish.

“I don't know how you expect me to keep your image in positive lights when you do everything against my advice,” Lydia tells him. She steers him towards the railing and they lean against it. “Look, I know you're getting tired of the fame.”

“I just want to be...normal,” Stiles mumbles. “Don't you miss it? Don't you miss being able to go grocery shopping without having a swarm of people come up to you because you're the famous Lydia Martin? Because you know _me_? I can't even go to the corner store by myself. I have to send Isaac.”

“Stiles—”

“The cameras are everywhere,” Stiles mutters. He smiles and waves down to the paparazzi at the end of the driveway to the ballroom. There are camera flashes for the next few seconds. “I'm tired of it, Lyds.”

“I know. That's why this is your last social event for the next three weeks.” Lydia puts her hand on his arm and squeezes gently. There's another four flashes of camera and she yanks her hand away. “For fuck's sake.”

They move out of sight and hover near the window. A couple comes out, drunk and laughing. They take over where Stiles and Lydia had just stood and embrace the media attention. Newbies.

“I know you want to figure out what happened with the Hale family. I know that it bothers you that you have no clue why Peter is the way Peter is or why his family disowned him. But you can't talk to the other Hales. If Peter finds out, he could destroy your image. You know how touchy he gets about his family,” Lydia quietly reminds him. She tilts his chin up a little so he looks at her. “You've got to figure out how you can deal with this. Six more months, Stiles. Just six more months.”

Stiles nods. He leans in and hugs Lydia. “Thanks.”

“Now, Malia?” Lydia asks.

“She's making out in the coat check closet with her girlfriend,” Stiles says, keeping his voice down. “Derek...Derek told me.”

Lydia nods once and then says, “Alright. Dance with two people and then we'll call it a night.”

“What about you?” Stiles asks. “Weren't you supposed to see Jackson tonight?”

That had been the major reason they came here. Lydia had heard that her ex would be here and she wanted to show him how much she didn't need him. Lydia shrugs. “He never showed. Now let's salvage this evening.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, as they walk back into the ballroom.

He scans the room until he spots Erica. Stiles murmurs, “I have to go clear some stuff up with Erica. I upset her earlier. Then two dances and we're gone.”

“Sounds good,” Lydia says, watching him go.

Stiles makes his way across the room. He hesitates before he taps Erica's shoulder. She stops talking, turning to see who it is. Her eyes meet his with a cold steel. Then she excuses herself from the conversation with the couple before she steps to the side to talk to Stiles.

“You're forgiven,” Erica tells him.

“I didn't even apologize yet,” Stiles sputters.

“I know, but your apology is all over your face. I'm sure you've been burned in this industry and I overreacted.”

“I—”

“Say 'Thank you, Erica' and be on your way,” she says, watching him carefully.

“Thank you, Erica.” Stiles turns to leave before he spins back to her. “For what it's worth, I've been burned. And it's all been lies.”

“I know you have, puppy.” Someone catches Erica's eyes and she turns her head. Her face gets a softer expression on it, and there's a smile at her lips. Her eyes even seem to dance a little. Stiles is about to leave, but Erica catches his wrist in her hand. “Stay. Meet my soon-to-be hubby.”

Stiles turns to see a man walk towards them. His expression almost matches Erica's. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Erica says, breathy. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him. When she leans back, she says, “Stiles, this is Boyd. Boyd, this is...well, you know, Stiles.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Boyd says, holding his hand out. Stiles shakes it, surprised at the firm grip. He doesn't seem to be fazed at meeting Stiles. It's so, so nice. “I trust Erica's been keeping you on your toes?”

“Something like that. It was lovely meeting you both.” Stiles hesitates before he adds, “Tweet me if you'd like to get coffee sometime or something.”

Erica looks pleasantly surprised. She nods. “I'll do that. Except I won't tweet you, doofus. That's stupid. I'll text you.”

“But—”

“I have my ways,” she promises. “Have a good night, Stiles.”

“You too,” he says, making sure to look at Boyd too. He only glances back once when he walks away because he wants to see what Erica had meant. She's right. The way they look at each other, it'd be ridiculous to not see them together until they're ninety.

Stiles turns away and bumps into someone. He's in the middle of an apology when he realizes it's Derek. “Oh god, I'm so sorry! I'm a mess tonight, apparently.”

Derek smiles, looking more amused than anything. “It's not a problem. Did Lydia introduce you to someone important?”

“Nawh,” Stiles says, shifting on his feet nervously. “She's...anyway.”

Derek looks like he's trying to make sense of Stiles, but Stiles doesn't know why he's bothering. He knows if Lydia catches him talking to Derek _again_ , there will be hell to pay.

“I apologize,” Stiles says, trying to keep his voice tight and professional. It's a weak attempt, really, because _holy hell_ , Derek is gorgeous. “I...It was great meeting you, but I can't exactly talk to you and—”

“Peter?” Derek asks, his voice dark. It surprises Stiles. Derek shakes his head in disbelief. “Listen, Stiles, if I were you, I'd get out while you still can. I've wanted to tell you that since you signed on with him. But...well, it's not like I'm exactly going to run into you at functions.”

“I have six months left,” Stiles murmurs, confused.

“Still. You can send the papers over to my sister, Laura. She'd look through them for you, see if you can get out of it.”

“Why? Why do you all hate him so much?” Stiles asks, eyes wide.

“He killed my parents,” Derek says simply. He presses a business card into Stiles' limp palm and curls Stiles' fingers over it. “Fax it to that number.”

Then Derek's walking away from him and Stiles is having a hard time closing his jaw. _He killed my parents_. That wasn't what Stiles had been expecting at all.

He makes his way through the crowd, his grip tight on the business card. He finds Lydia immediately and says, “Screw appearances. Let's leave now.”

“Sure,” Lydia says, nodding. Lydia scrolls through her phone as they walk, slipping her free arm in Stiles', and they barely make it out the doors when she stops dead in her tracks.

“Lydia, what is it?” Stiles asks.

She turns her phone to show Stiles. He leans forward to see that it's Jackson's Instagram. He'd posted a photo of him making out with a brunette.

The caption reads, _**She said I could forget about you with a taste of her lips. She was right.** _

“Wow, what a douche,” Stiles says. He takes Lydia's phone from her and slips it into his suit pocket. He tugs on Lydia and leads her down the stairs. “He's not a classy motherfucker, is he?”

“All of his fans want to know who the girl is,” Lydia mutters. “They're threatening her too. Jackson should know better than to risk someone like that.”

“He screwed up when he dumped you as his PR manager,” Stiles says, after requesting for his car to be pulled around. He tips the valet driver a fifty and they get into the limo. He usually hates being driven around, but tonight he doesn't mind so much. He shifts on the limo seat to make more room for Lydia, but she only moves closer to him.

“He dumped me as his _fianc_ _é_ _e,”_ Lydia points out. She pulls her legs up onto the seat before she shifts and rests her head against Stiles' shoulder. He reaches out and takes her hand in his. It hadn't been an easy breakup. It'd been all over the media too. Lydia had been doing fairly well, but Jackson hadn't publicly hooked up with anyone yet either. “God, he is such an asshole. How could he humiliate me like this?”

“I don't know.” Stiles doesn't want to jump on the let's-hate-Jackson bandwagon, because he has a sneaky suspicion that the breakup might not last. “Has he been posting much on social media?”

“Not really,” Lydia says. “This is the first _fuck you_ post. Mostly, it's just been speculation about us that's been in the media. The tabloids were wondering if Jackson could ever love again or some bullshit. They painted me as a crazy bitch! It's not _my_ fault that Jackson was fired from his last movie.”

“It's not,” Stiles promises. He rests his head against hers. “Look, when we get home, I'll ask Isaac to go out ad get us some junk food. The three of us can have a movie marathon or something.”

Lydia sighs. “Can we watch Legally Blonde?”

“Twice if you want,” Stiles tells her.

She smiles and says, “I'd like that.”

“Lydia?”

“Yeah?”

“He really fucked up when he broke up with you.”

“I know,” she murmurs. She lifts one hand to her face and Stiles knows she's wiping away some tears. He'd learned quickly with Lydia that they were never to speak of her crying. He was only supposed to comfort her. “I'm glad I have you. And Isaac. You're probably one of the few celebrities that hangs out with their hired help.”

“Isaac's more than that and you know it,” Stiles responds. He squeezes her hand. “What kind of ice cream do you want?”

“Rocky Road,” Lydia answers. “Or Moose Tracks. Either or.”

“I'll text Isaac now.”

“Stiles?” Lydia asks.

“Yeah?” Stiles answers as he pulls out his phone. He takes his hand away from Lydia to text.

“Do you know you were talking to Erica Reyes, Derek Hale's manager?”

“Yeah. I found that out a little too late,” Stiles says. “I'm sorry, Lyds. I broke all of your rules and they were pretty simple ones too.”

Lydia's about to respond when her phone buzzes in Stiles' lap. She reaches for it, not giving a shit how close it is to his crotch or the fact that her hand brushes his dick through his pants, and skims the message. Then she's sitting upright. Her expression is hard. She turns her phone for Stiles to read.

 

**JACKSON:** _did you see my insta photo?  
_ **JACKSON:** _it was for you_

 

“Lydia—”

“Tell Isaac I want both.”

Stiles nods and texts Isaac to pick up four different types of ice cream, some chocolate, and a trashy romance novel. Isaac responds to say he'd seen the photo and was already at the corner store. He tells Stiles that Legally Blonde will be ready to go when they get home. Stiles smiles and then pulls a crying Lydia back into his embrace.

“He's such an asshole.”

“It's pretty fucked up that he texted you to make sure you saw it,” Stiles murmurs. He kisses the top of her head. “I'll block his number for you if you want.”

“Please.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“That bad?” Isaac whispers to Stiles after Lydia finally passes out five hours later. She'd spent the first viewing of Legally Blonde crying too much, so they all watched it again. Isaac had provided to be the best decision Stiles had ever had over and over again. Tonight he'd gone above and beyond.

“He texted her,” Stiles whispers as they hover in the living room archway looking at Lydia sleeping on the couch. She has a blanket that Isaac had pulled over her wrapped tightly around her small body. Her face is red and puffy—not that he'd ever say so to Lydia. His chest is tight with worry over her. He's never seen her this bad. Not even after the breakup. “He wanted her to see the photo.”

Isaac curses. “I couldn't...I couldn't understand what she was saying between sobs. Then she finally stopped, so I didn't want to ask.”

“Smart man,” Stiles says, lightly clapping a hand on his shoulder. “C'mon, let's make some grub. I'm starved.”

“Stiles, all we've ate is junk,” Isaac points out.

“Exactly. Now it's two in the morning and I haven't had any actual food in over six hours.” Stiles moves into the kitchen and opens his fridge. He winces. “God, we really need to get actual food in here.”

“Your fridge is full,” Isaac points out.

“Okay, actual food that I can cook,” Stiles corrects with a small laugh. “Do we have fries?”

“We should,” Isaac tells him. “It was on your list.”

He opens the freezer and grabs a bag. “Perfect. Fries it is. Man. I need to rethink my grocery lists.”

Isaac snorts. “Or you need to hire a cook 24/7.”

“Now you're thinking!” Stiles teases. He turns the oven on before he spreads a bunch of fries out onto a baking sheet. He tosses the rest of the bag into the freezer and leans against the counter. “What a freaking night.”

“Yeah. I've never seen Lydia so destroyed over someone before. She really loves Jackson, doesn't she?” Isaac asks.

“She does. And sadly, he loves her too. They're just letting their pride get in the way. I'm sure...well, I'm sure if one of them went to the other and _talked_ about their breakup, they'd be together in minutes.” Stiles sighs. “Should we move her upstairs to her bedroom?”

“Maybe.” Isaac glances back towards the living room. “She'll probably get a better rest in her own bed.”

“Alright.”

Stiles and Isaac leave the kitchen. Isaac helps Stiles pick her up in his arms like a baby, and then they're walking towards the stairs.

Lydia shifts slightly in Stiles' arms but doesn't seem to wake. It's not until Isaac's pulled back her covers and Stiles is lying her down that she stirs again. She murmurs, “Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Did Derek tell you the family secret?” Lydia asks.

Stiles feels his heart skip a beat at the mention of the hot movie star. He quietly tells her, “I'll tell you in the morning.”

Isaac gives him an alarmed expression.

“Stiles?” Lydia asks. “Tell me now.”

“Peter...Peter killed his parents.”

Lydia's eyes flash open. She looks up at him. “We're definitely talking about that tomorrow, Stiles.”

“That's all I know, kid. Sleep, Lyds. Tomorrow will be long enough.”

“Ugh,” she grumbles. “Love you guys.”

“Love you,” Isaac's quick to say. Lydia rolls over and Isaac yanks the blanket over her. She's asleep again before they shut the door. Isaac nudges Stiles as they walk down the hall. “What the hell, dude? You talked to Derek?”

“I did.”

“And?” Isaac prompts. “You've been mooning over him forever. And whining about wanting to know the family deal that the media hasn't figured out yet. You finally find out and you don't mention it?”

“I...I forgot.” Stiles shrugs as he jogs back down the stairs, Isaac hot on his feet. “Honestly, dude, it slipped my mind. The Jackson thing happened immediately afterward. C'mon, I'll tell you all about it over food.”

“The oven's not going to have heated up yet,” Isaac points out. “So spill now.”

Stiles huffs as he sits down at the kitchen island. He looks at Isaac and shrugs again. “What can I say? I had the weirdest night. This woman, Malia, was hitting on me. I told her I wasn't interested—really politely too!--and she threw a glass of water on me. It was on Twitter in seconds.”

“I didn't hear about it,” Isaac mumbles. He pulls out his phone, clearly searching for it. “Malia Tate? Isn't that the Hales' cousin?”

“Shut up,” Stiles says, with a half-laugh. “I, apparently, am the only person on the planet who didn't know this.”

“Oh wow, she got you pretty good.” Isaac shows Stiles and he rolls his eyes. “I'm going to retweet this. Punch me later.”

“Yeah, whatever. She storms off, and this gorgeous blonde woman starts talking to me at the other side of the bar.” Stiles shifts on the stool and yawns. It's been a long day. “She's sympathetic and really easy to talk to. I felt like we'd known each other forever. Her name's Erica and—”

“Derek Hale's agent,” Isaac supplies.

“How did you know that?” Stiles asks.

“How did you _not_ know that?” Isaac counters. “Seriously dude. You do business with their horrible uncle, and you don't know shit about their family or their business?”

“I—no,” Stiles says, a little sheepish. “So Erica's pretty cool, and I have no idea who she is, and she didn't tell me she's Derek's agent, and then she asks what my story is. So I blurt that I'm bisexual and—”

“Lydia's going to kill you,” Isaac whispers, eyes widening. Stiles swats him.

“Shut up! I was in shock from Malia's whiplash. Then she tells me that I'm being selfish for not being out because my fans need that kind of a role model in their life. _Then_ she proceeds to mention that she's Derek's agent. I freaked out, and she got mad.”

“Why'd you freak out?” Isaac asks.

“Because! I thought she'd out me so that Derek could advance,” Stiles mumbles. “I mean, there _are_ rumours that he auditioned to the same part in that new movie as I did. I'm sure if it came out that I'm bisexual—which is basically gay in the media's eyes because they're idiots—then I probably wouldn't get it.”

“Oh god.” Isaac shakes his head. “Dude, how badly did you offend Erica?”

“Pretty bad,” Stiles admits. “Then Lydia lectures me, of course, and I end up looking for Malia when _Derek Hale_ finds me. He just starts talking to me!”

“About what?” Isaac asks.

“About the fact that...well, Malia's in the coat check closet making out with _her girlfriend_ so I should give it up,” Stiles answers with a groan. He buries his face into his hands, elbows propped up on the counter top. “I was such a dweeb. Oh god, Isaac. You should take me out back and shoot me.”

“What happened exactly?”

“I embarrassed myself, of course! And he was _so_ nice. The media makes him out to be this grumpy ass guy who's kind of a dick, but he was so lovely. And so hot, holy fuck.” Stiles squirms in his seat. “And then he mentioned Peter, and I was going to tell him that I didn't want to have anything to do with Peter after our contract was up, but Lydia caught us.”

“So how did you find out about Peter and his parents?” Isaac asks confused. He catches Stiles' exasperated look and raises his hands in innocence. “The story's not done yet, got it.”

“ _Then_ ,” Stiles says, dramatically. “We talked. I went to find Erica to apologize, and she was pretty cool about it. I met her soul mate, Boyd, and he was cool too. And guess who I bump into when I'm walking away from them? _Derek_. Seriously. We chatted for like three minutes. Apparently, he's wanted to help me get out of my contract with Peter for years now? He told me to send a copy over to his sister, Laura, and she'll try to find a loophole that Lydia might have missed. And then he gave me his business card and I asked what was so awful about Peter—what had he done. And he said, _'He killed my parents.'_ It was horrible. And over so suddenly. Then Lydia and I left and on our way to the limo, Jackson had posted that photo.”

“What a freaking night you had,” Isaac says, amused. He shakes his head. “So no details on what happened?”

“None!” Stiles whines.

“Man, and the entire time, I was sitting in my pajamas on Skype with Scott.” Isaac laughs now. “So you have his business card? What are you going to do with it?”

“I have no clue!” Stiles says. “I'll wait until Lydia gives the instructions. How's Scott?”

“Good,” Isaac answers with a nod. “He had a tough case—he had to put down Finstock's cat.”

“No,” Stiles whispers, wincing. “He loved that cat more than Finstock himself.”

“I know. It's been a rough night for everyone. We played some COD and then Grand Thief Auto. It seemed to cheer him up. He wants to come visit in three weeks,” Isaac says, hope in his voice.

“Of course! Book the flights tomorrow and stick the charges on my credit card. You know I'm always down to see Scott,” Stiles rushes to say. He watches Isaac carefully light up.

There used to be days that Scott couldn't even get a smile out of Isaac because Isaac's abusive father had beaten him down so much. Stiles hates how he'd found Isaac on the side of the road—bruised, bleeding and crying—two years after he'd made it big. He hadn't known Isaac well, just that they'd gone to the same high school, but he'd picked him up that night. It'd been raining, of course. Because life couldn't have gotten shittier for Isaac.

He'd resisted Stiles' help at first. Then he'd walked around the house Stiles had purchased for his father with his second big pay cheque and had realized how much money Stiles had. Isaac hadn't wanted it; had begged to work for it. With Peter and Lydia controlling his career, Stiles hadn't had much to offer him. Isaac pitched the idea of an assistant—one who lives and travels with him. Stiles had seen it the way Isaac had: the perfect opportunity for Isaac to get away from his father. So he'd accepted, overpaid Isaac who happily did more than his job description.

It'd worked out for both of them, because over the past few years, they'd become best friends. However, no one made Isaac smile more than Scott did. Stiles had casually dropped hints that he could always afford to hire a second assistant and have Isaac take care of his house in Beacon Hills, but Isaac wasn't ready to leave him yet. In some ways, Stiles understands Isaac's need to be with Stiles—his need to stay away from Beacon Hills. But Isaac's father had died in a drunk car accident (his fault) a few years ago. There would be no awkward run-ins. Mostly, Stiles wants to see his friends happy and he has a feeling they could make each other very happy.

“Stiles, you're the best. I'm going to text Scott now.”

Stiles smiles, happy that there was good coming from the insane money he'd been making for being on-screen. If he gets the movie he auditioned for recently— _I Bet You Look Good on The Dance Floor—_ a movie that, after reading the script, was going to be a huge success, it'd mean he'd have even _more_ insane money coming into his bank account. The movie has a sharp script, written by one of society's sharpest feminists, hilarious and tragically relatable characters, and a fantastic ending that will leave viewers gasping and begging for more. Hell, Stiles hadn't related to a character more than he had with the lead of _I Bet You Look Good on The Dance Floor._

He can't help but feel that gnawing feeling from before. Derek Hale had also auditioned—or so the rumours had said. That means that Stiles' chances of getting the part are now next to none. Derek is a talented actor. His grumpy demeanour and dazzling, rare smile had had the entire world entranced. Derek had stolen the hearts of many people (and maybe, _just maybe,_ Stiles is one of them). There's no way he wouldn't get the part, because Derek might not seem like the friendliest of people to the media, but _man,_ he worked magic on the screen. Stiles could stare at him all day.

“Stiles?”

Stiles jumps at Isaac's voice. He'd completely gotten lost in his own thoughts. He raises his eyebrows in response.

“I think the fries can go in now,” Isaac tells him gently. “I would but I'm off the clock.”

Stiles snorts, shoving Isaac's shoulder as he passes him to put the tray into the oven. “Set a timer? Thirteen minutes.”

“Got it,” Isaac says. “Scott told me that he's super excited and that he loves you, dude.”

“Tell him I love him more.” Stiles turns to look at Isaac. “Did you think we'd ever get here?”

“You, maybe. Me? No,” Isaac answers honestly. “I thought I'd be dead by now.”

Stiles nods slightly, knowing that Isaac doesn't feel comfortable talking about this stuff with anyone other than Stiles. Maybe Scott. Sometimes Lydia. But mostly, they're the only ones who talk about Isaac's father. “You could do so much with your life, but you're still with me. Why's that?”

“Because I love you,” Isaac says, his eyes dropping to his hands as he plays with his phone. “And because you need me.”

“I—yeah, I guess I do.” Stiles comes around to stand behind Isaac. He puts his hands gently on Isaac's shoulders and rests his head against his. “I love you too, buddy.”

“Aw, look at us. We're getting all emotional. You practicing for when you get the part of Dylan Posey in that new movie?” Isaac teases.

Stiles snorts. “No. I'm just overtired and overly sentimental. Besides, I'm not going to get that part. I told you. _Derek Hale_ auditioned.”

“I don't know why you think Derek's so much better than you. You're both very talented. And if this is your way of fishing for compliments, you're not getting anymore.” Isaac sets his phone onto the counter top and smiles at Stiles, who's sitting in his stool again. “It's your turn on _Words with Friends_ , by the way.”

“It is?” Stiles asks, surprised. “I've been waiting for you. Oops.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “As if. You're a lazy motherfucker.”

Stiles laughs and pulls out his phone. “Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”

“See? Why couldn't you have that confidence about your _career_?”

Stiles shrugs. It's not that he didn't think he was good. He does. In fact, he's gotten over finding it weird to see himself on the screen. Now he watches all of his stuff to see where he could do better. He forces Isaac to watch his stuff at least three times, as they hit play and pause to see where Stiles was strong and where he was weak. However, he knows the Hale charm—if Derek has even a fraction of the smooth-talking charm his uncle has, well, Stiles is screwed.

“Wow, you suck at this,” Isaac comments after Stiles has filled in his word. Stiles throws a paper towel roll at him and Isaac laughs instead of flinching in fear. It eases a knot in Stiles' chest.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“You have to forward the contract to Derek right now,” Lydia tells him three days later. “If you don't, I'll email it to Erica to have her forward it to him. I've heard insane things about Derek's sister, so I did some research. She's a kickass lawyer. She might be able to do this for you.”

“It's only six months,” Stiles mumbles.

“You know what? If you land the part in _I Bet You Look Good on The Dance Floor_ , Peter will have his claws into you until you're finished shooting,” Lydia snaps. “Email him, for fuck's sake.”

“But—” Stiles starts.

“Isaac agrees with me,” Lydia says. And ugh, _low blow._ She knows that Stiles has a shit time saying no to Isaac.

“Hey, leave me out of this!” Isaac says from the driver's seat beside Stiles. “But yeah, dude, I do agree with Lydia. Peter has already stolen millions from you. _Millions.”_

“He'll keep doing it.” Lydia huffs. “We have no proof of him taking the money, so we can't legally charge him. You can't fire him. You're going to go bankrupt before your six months is over if you don't get out of the contract.”

“I—yeah, okay, you're right. I still have the copy of the email I sent you,” Stiles says, nodding at Lydia. He takes out his phone and shifts through his email. “I'll forward it to him.”

“Thank fuck,” Lydia whispers. “Why are you being so pigheaded about this?”

“You literally just won!” Stiles says, frowning.

“Yeah, but I can still ask.” She eyes him carefully. He turns away so he doesn't have to see her watching him. “What's the big deal? You've wanted out of this contract for years.”

“It doesn't seem like the next six months will really matter,” Stiles mutters. “I'm not going to get that Dylan Posey part anyway.”

“Ugh, this again,” Isaac says. “Dude, just because Derek Hale auditioned means nothing.”

“Yeah, _to you.”_ Stiles mutters.

He doesn't acknowledge anything they say for the next few minutes while he sorts out his email to Derek.

 

**To:** ddhale@haleproductions.com  
 **From:** stiles@stilinski.com 

**Subject:** Contract  
 **Message:** _Hello Mr. Hale,_  

_Thank you so much for your offer. My manager and assistant have convinced me to take you up on it. Please see my contract with your uncle attached, and forward it to your sister. Thank her in advance for me, and let me know if there's any compensation required._

_Have a great afternoon,  
_ _Stiles S._

 

He stares at it for a few more seconds before he hits 'Send' because if he doesn't now, he might not ever. Stiles stretches. “There, it's all done.”

“You attached it, right?” Lydia asks. “Double check that you attached it.”

Stiles huffs, opening the email again. He scrolls down and then his heart stops. “Um. _No_. Apparently not. Oh my god. I am an idiot.”

“It's okay. Just wait for him to respond and then say that your phone must have fucked up,” Isaac suggests.

“Or send it out immediately,” Lydia adds. “That way he knows you realized your mistake, and he can get the contract over to his sister ASAP.”

“Or that,” Isaac says, laughing. “Take the advice of the wise one.”

“Okay. Maybe pull over? We'll go somewhere that has wifi and I'll do it from my laptop.” Stiles points at the Starbucks sign. “There!”

“Oh god, this is a bad idea,” Isaac mumbles as he pulls over. “Hood up, Stilinski.”

“Right,” Stiles mutters. “I can't do anything normal because I might be attacked by people who call themselves my _fans._ Right.”

“I'm so famous, woe is me,” Isaac mocks but his laughter dies when Stiles shoots him a dirty look. “Sorry, dude. I know it's tough.”

“Let's make this as quick as possible,” Lydia says in her usual take-charge tone. Stiles is happy she's back to her usual self. There's been a sadness behind her eyes, but mostly, she's okay. She's decided to ignore Jackson and all of his social media craziness. She asked Stiles and Isaac to also ignore Jackson's social media accounts. Within minutes, Lydia had convinced them that they should block Jackson like she had.

Stiles doesn't really care what he's doing on Instagram or any other form, as long as he isn't hurting Lydia anymore. She gets out of the car, tugging her hat on and slipping on a pair of sunglasses, and goddamn, if she doesn't look like a queen. She strides into the Starbucks, demanding attention without meaning to. It comes naturally to her.

“I'll order for us,” Isaac says.

“I'll wait with you,” Lydia returns.

Stiles finds an empty table and slips into a seat. Within a few minutes, he's connected to the wifi. He opens up his email, surprised to find that Derek Hale has already sent a response.

 

**To:** stiles@stilinski.com  
 **From:** ddhale@haleproductions.com

**Subject:** Re: Contract Missing  
 **Message:** _Hello Stiles,_

  _It seems that the contract didn't attach, or you forgot, but either way, I'll pass it onto my sister as soon as I receive it. Malia sends her best regards and her apologies. She said she'd make an official statement regarding the drink incident tomorrow morning on_ Good Morning, USA! _I apologize for any actions that me or my family may have caused for you to leave the party so early._

_Hope to see you soon,  
_ _D._

 

“What's with the face?” Lydia asks, sliding into the seat across from Stiles. Isaac sits down a moment later with two drinks in his hands.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” Isaac comments. “Dude, it's not that big of a deal. Just say there was a computer glitch.”

“He's already read the email _and_ responded.” Stiles turns the laptop towards them so they can read. He watches as one of Lydia's perfect eyebrows go up and Isaac's lips part in surprise. Then they're both smiling.

“I think he's into you,” Isaac says. “Dude could've told you that you forgot to attach the contract.”

“I agree,” Lydia says, almost with _amusement_ in her tone. Stiles shoots them both a dirty look.

“Shut up, both of you.” Stiles hits 'Reply' and starts a response.

 

**To:** ddhale@haleproductions.com  
 **From:** stiles@stilinski.com 

**Subject:** Re: Re: Contract Found!  
 **Attachment(s):** Peter_Hale_Contract_2011.pdf  
 **Message:** _Derek,_

_It appears my phone didn't attach the contract. It's there now! I stopped by a Starbucks for a proper wifi connection on my laptop. Tell your cousin I send my thanks, and normally wouldn't ask her to make any sort of statement and simply let it blow over, except my manager is glaring at me for even suggesting it. (Sorry Malia!) Trust me, my leaving early had nothing to do with you. I had to be there for a friend._  

_Thanks again,  
_ _Stiles_

 

“There.”

“Oh my god,” Lydia says, laughing when she reads it. “Is this a love letter? Jeez, Stilinski. _Trust me, my leaving early had nothing to do with you._ What is that?”

“Shut up. It's true!” Stiles defends, but Isaac's smirking too. “You guys are awful people.”

“I'm texting Scott,” Isaac announces. “He's going to get a huge kick out of this.”

“Fine, you're never reading another email I send ever again.”

“Mhm,” Lydia says, skeptical tone heavy. “Stiles, we all know you have a crush on Derek. It's _okay.”_

“It's not,” Stiles mumbles. “He's so...and I'm so. _..not_...and it's stupid to have a crush on him.”

“Not at all,” Isaac argues. “Besides, it's harmless. What are the odds you'll ever see this guy again?”

“Pretty slim,” Stiles admits. “I mean, it took us six and a half years to meet the other week. I doubt I'll see him again.”

“There you go,” Isaac says, in an encouraging tone before he ducks his head back to his phone. He snorts. “Scott asked when the wedding is?”

“Oh shut up, all of you.” But Stiles is smiling down at his laptop screen because there's a little **(1)** beside _Inbox._

 

**To:** stiles@stilinski.com  
 **From:** ddhale@haleproductions.com 

**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Contract Sent  
 **Message:** _Stiles,_  

_The contract has been sent out to my sister. She texted me to let me know she received it. I'll update you if she finds anything (and if she doesn't)._

  _Happy to hear I didn't scare you off. Maybe you'd want to get drinks or coffee sometime?  
_ _D._

 

“Guys.”

“No way,” Lydia whispers once she's read the email. “Do you know how _awful_ it'd be if Peter found out that you were getting drinks with his nephew? You can't.”

“I—”

“What if he's trying to assess his competition for the new movie?” Isaac asks.

“Right. Of course. I'll say no.”

“Oh good. I was worried we'd have to talk you into it,” Lydia says, picking up her latte.

 

**To:** ddhale@haleproductions.com  
 **From:** stiles@stilinski.com 

**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Thanks  
 **Message:** _Derek,_  

_I know a great place. It's a cafe at Melrose Avenue and Cole Avenue. It's beside Vine American Party Supplies, down the alley way at the back. The baristas there know me and they'll leave us alone. It's called The Goblin._

_Tomorrow at eight?  
_ _S._

 

“Excuse me, are you Stiles?” a voice comes beside the table suddenly.

“No,” he lies. “Excuse us, my friends and I were just about to leave.”

They barely make it out without being mobbed after the girl shouts, “You _are_ Stiles Stilinski!”

When Stiles' phone vibrates a few minutes after they're back in the safety of their car and on the road, Stiles lies and says it's just his dad checking in. He stares at the email preview from Derek. 

The preview reads: _Stiles, I'll be there._

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

He's nervous, nervous enough that he lies about where he's going to Lydia and Isaac, and shows up to _The Goblin_ thirty minutes early.

“Hey Heather,” he greets the cute girl behind the counter. She'd been so nice to him when he'd first come into this hole-in-a-wall cafe that he'd honestly thought she hadn't recognized him. Caitlin, the other woman who usually worked here too, also had the same reaction. He'd learned a few weeks after he'd been coming here on a regular basis that they'd both known who he was immediately upon seeing him, but they hadn't made a big deal about it because they'd figured he'd gotten enough of that in his lifetime.

It may be partly why Heather and Caitlin are some of his favourite people in the world. Another part of that is because they give him delicious coffee and sometimes toss him a free muffin. He always leaves a great tip on the table though, because he wants them to know how much he appreciates them treating him like a normal person.

Another part of why he adores the two of them is because whenever someone recognizes him and starts to make a big deal out of it, they kick the person out. They lecture them on invading someone's private space. It's incredible, sweet, and why Stiles will always come back to _The Goblin._

Sometimes, when Stiles has particularly bad days, Heather and Caitlin will close the whole cafe down for him. He always leaves a cheque then, because he's not an idiot. He knows what that costs them in sales.

“Stiles,” Heather greets with a pleasant smile. “Odd, you're not usually in on Tuesdays. Everything okay?”

“Fine,” he says, nodding. “I trust I can tell you something and you'll keep it a secret.”

Heather hesitates.

“Between you and Caitlin,” he amends.

Heather instantly relaxes. She nods. “Yes, of course.”

“I'm meeting Derek Hale here tonight,” Stiles tells her. He's kept it to himself for over twenty-four hours. It's been killing him and it feels _so_ good to say it aloud to someone other than his reflection in the mirror.

If Heather's surprised, she doesn't show it. Instead, she offers him a warm smile. “That's so lovely, Stiles! Is it a date?”

“I—no?” Stiles shrugs. “I don't know, to be honest. But Lydia, Isaac, and Scott don't know.”

_“Oh wow,”_ Heather whispers. She knows what that means. Her eyes grow wide now. “Why not? Do they disapprove?”

“No, not exactly.” Stiles flails a little. “Okay, so they're all totally against the idea. They think that Derek could be up to something. I mean, they distrust him because the first time I met him, he kinda sprung some serious stuff on me. So they're not sure how...how it'll go.”

“I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious,” Heather promises.

“You're an angel among monsters,” Stiles tells her.

She giggles. He'd learned that it was her favourite quote that he says in one of his older films. Stiles uses it on her as often as he can because the blush on her cheeks is too cute.

“Hitting on my girlfriend again?” Caitlin asks, coming out from the back. She gives him a big smile and reaches over the counter to wrap an arm around his neck. He does the same, and doesn't even care that it's an awkward hug.

“Always. Keep an eye on her, because I think she's finally coming around to like me,” Stiles teases.

Caitlin rolls her eyes. “I saw that Malia Tate broke your heart last week. Funny how we never heard of you two until the magazines.”

“Funny how that works out, huh?” Stiles says, shaking his head. “Met about fifteen minutes before she broke my heart. I'm getting more fragile, apparently.”

“Stiles,” Heather whispers suddenly, her eyes on something—someone--behind him. “Your date walked in.”

“Jesus shit, _Derek Hale is your date?_ Wow,” Caitlin murmurs. She winks at Stiles. “Good job, honey bee.”

He inhales sharply before he turns around. Derek looks...well, Derek looks super casual. He's wearing a black shirt with a pair of jeans and he's searching around the cafe. When his eyes meet Stiles', there's relief there. Yeah, Derek's not here to cause Stiles harm. He feels it in his gut.

“Hey,” Stiles greets with his hand on the back of his neck. He smiles, nervous.

Derek walks forward, taking each step carefully, as if he's talking himself into taking another one. “Hi.”

“The coffee's the best here. What do you take?” Stiles asks.

“Black,” Derek states simply, looking at Stiles with curiosity in his eyes. It's as though he's trying to figure him out and Stiles almost wants to tell him it's a lost cause. “Just...black.”

“I can do that. I'll grab you a piece of our pie too. Complimentary,” Heather says, with her warm smile. Derek looks startled and his eyes meet Stiles', wide and unsure.

“Apple or pumpkin?” Caitlin asks.

“What?” Derek stammers.

“Pie. Apple or pumpkin pie?” Caitlin repeats, her smile never faltering.

“Apple,” Derek says. He glances at Stiles' again.

“They're cool,” Stiles explains. “They don't give a shit about how famous you are. It's...refreshing, don't cha think?”

Derek's shoulders seem to relax. He nods. “It is. I'm...I'm not used to it.”

“I get that,” Stiles tells him. He accepts his drink from Caitlin and snatches the first plate with pie to appear. “I'm going to grab a seat.”

“Okay,” Derek says, looking a little more at ease.

Stiles slips into his usual seat at the corner of the cafe. He smiles in amusement as Derek politely thanks Heather and Caitlin and gives them a surprisingly bright smile. They both look a little shocked but very pleased.

“They get it,” Derek whispers when he joins Stiles.

“The fact that we're normal humans? Yeah, I know. It's great. They've become some of my best friends because of it,” Stiles tells him honestly. He shifts on his seat and then looks down at his coffee. He's having coffee with Derek Hale. His eyes snap back up to make sure he's not making it up. Nope. He's here. He's breathing. Wow. “Why did you want to get coffee with me?”

Derek looks taken aback by the question. Then he seems to force himself to relax. “Honestly, I've admired you and your work for a long time. When the opportunity presented itself, I took it.”

“Just like that?” Stiles asks, surprised.

“Just like that.”

“I've admired you and your work too,” Stiles finds himself saying at ease. “You're so talented. I also, well, I don't know if this is weird, but I've followed some of your interviews. You're great.”

“My sisters say I'm shit,” Derek says, smiling fondly at the mention of his sisters. “They think I'm too dull.”

“Dull?” Stiles snorts. “Definitely not dull. Dry humour is what I'd used to describe you. It's fantastic.”

Derek shakes his head, amused now. He shifts on the chair, letting himself loosen up, and then he says, “Your interviews are much better. You always look so innocently confused whenever people laugh at—”

“At the fact that I tell them I got into the industry by a fluke,” Stiles finishes immediately.

Derek nods. “That's what I was going to say.”

“Because I _still_ don't get the joke!” Stiles says, grinning now. He leans forward, holding Derek's eyes with his own, and asks, “Want to let me in on it?”

Derek raises his eyebrows. He leans forward to whisper back, “You got big in the industry by _talent._ Everyone laughs because they think you're being modest.”

Stiles leans back, thinking over Derek's answer. “No shit?”

“No shit,” Derek says, dry tone.

“Everyone thinks that?”

“Everyone.”

“I had no idea.” Stiles shrugs. “Whatever. How's Erica?”

Derek seems startled by the topic change but he adjusts by answering him. “Erica's good. She's very excited about her wedding. She won't stop talking about it. I'm happy for her and Boyd though. They've been my friends for years.”

“I also hired two of my friends to work for me. It's so nice having someone who genuinely cares about you on your side.”

“Peter?” Derek hesitates to ask. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Peter cares about the money,” Stiles says, shrugging. “But you know that.”

“I do.”

They fall quiet for a few minutes. Stiles picks at his pie, and Derek sips his coffee. Stiles isn't sure how this is so easy and so difficult all at once. When his eyes lock with Derek's again, he asks, “Will you tell me about it?”

Derek nods. “I was a little drunk at the party. I said more than I should have, but it's too late to go back now.”

“You don't have to,” Stiles says. He offers Derek a small smile. “I don't mind if you don't. We could talk about how adorable your cat is on your Instagram.”

Derek grins at this. “You mean, Taco? He's pretty cute. Cora—my little sister—got him for me for my birthday last year.”

“I think I vaguely remember reading that,” Stiles admits. “What's Cora like? She manages to stay out of the spotlight well.”

“That's because she was a little hell raiser when she was fifteen. The tabloids were covered with her face for that entire year.” Derek shakes his head at the memory. “She got enough trash talk about her to last a lifetime. She's much quieter now. At least publicly. She still raises hell in the house.”

“Naturally,” Stiles teases.

“Can I ask you something?” Derek asks.

“You just did. But yeah, of course.”

“Why did you meet me for coffee?”

Stiles rubs his hands together. He's not sure how to answer the question with anything but complete honesty. He looks up. “I've had the biggest crush on you since I knew who you were. You represent all that I could be. You don't care about the tabloids or the image the media creates for you. Grumpy old man? You go with it. You seem to be unapologetically grumpy. You're subtle, dry, but you shoot remarks right back at the interviewers. Like in that interview with you and Allison Argent? They asked you about your character's development and then asked her about her outfit. You simply called them out on their sexist behaviour. I must have watched that video like twelve times. Allison's face lights up so much. It's obvious that she's so happy that you stood up for her and—”

Stiles takes a deep breath before he winces. “I'm rambling. Sorry.”

“I don't mind. This is an excellent self-esteem boost. Keep talking,” Derek teases.

Stiles laughs, a little shaky. “It's hard not to have a crush on you, Derek Hale. But I don't think I know you very well and I'd like to.”

Derek smiles. “I think we can fix that, Stiles.”

With that confession out in the open, Stiles finds them falling into a rhythm. It's easy, it's light, and it's so much fun. Stiles is snorting while he laughs because goddamn, Derek's actually quite hilarious. It's a quiet humour, but it's there nonetheless.

Stiles trades stories about Isaac, Lydia, and Scott for stories about Cora, Laura, Erica and Boyd. Derek even talks about his time working with Allison on their last project, and how incredible she was. Stiles smiles, because both Scott and Isaac had had celebrity crushes on Allison Argent for as long as he had known them.

“What's the deal with Malia?” Stiles asks.

“It's been a rough few years for her. We didn't know she was related to us,” Derek tells him, honesty ringing in his voice. “It was a happy accident, to be honest. She was looking for her real family, and she found us. Laura ordered a DNA test to see if we could be related, and there was a small match. Cora was mad at Laura for ordering the test because she's so clearly one of us. The media doesn't know that though. They simply think she moved from out of town to live with us—which is true—and that we've known her our whole lives.”

“Suddenly part of a famous family can't be easy,” Stiles comments.

“Not at all. She's also a lesbian, so it's been tough. She's been struggling with coming out and...well, you've seen what her latest coping method has been.” Derek sighs. “She is sorry about that. Did you see her interview today?”

“She's good, saying that I lost a bet.” Stiles smiles. “She's very lovely, and I think she could have a great singing career. She was telling me what she wants to do for her next music video.”

“She's creative like that,” Derek agrees. “Kira—that's her girlfriend—is also good for her. Kira's been nothing but great support for Malia. She's happier than she was when we met her.”

“Your life is so much more complicated than mine,” Stiles tells him.

Derek shakes his head. “Not true. I know of your lost when you were twelve, and I'm sorry. I know what it's like and it doesn't ever leave you. Not really.”

Stiles blinks back tears and when his breathing is shaky. “Thank you.”

“I'll tell you about Peter and my parents...another time, if that's okay?” Derek asks.

“Is that your way of saying you'd like to see me again?”

“Yeah, but maybe a nice restaurant. Not that this cafe isn't great,” Derek rushes to add. “But I'd like to get a full meal next time.”

“Sure. I know places,” Stiles says, with a smile. “I'll text you an address.”

“Is that your way of asking me for my number?” Derek teases.

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

Derek hands him his cell phone.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

Stiles loves Heather and Caitlin more than anyone these days. They hadn't spread news about Stiles' non-date with Derek Hale. None of the other customers had leaked anything, mostly because they hadn't noticed them. It means that Lydia, Isaac, and Scott don't find out about it.

“Lydia?” Stiles asks a few nights after his non-date. He flops down on the couch beside her and studies her. “How are you?”

She stiffens slightly. “I'm fine.”

“Lydia,” he says.

“I haven't checked his social media. I'm fine.” Lydia stands up and barely glances at him when she walks towards the television. She grabs the remote. “I don't want to talk about it, Stilinski.”

“Alright,” he says, quietly. “Any news on the Dylan Posey part?”

“They're still deciding. They might bring you in again,” Lydia answers. “At least, that's what Peter told me. He heard about your run in with Derek at the party.”

“And?” Stiles' heart pounds fast.

“He said he's happy to hear you left the party shortly afterward.”

“That's all?”

“That's all.”

“Thank god.” Stiles smiles at her, hoping that news will make her happy. She settles onto the couch beside him and turns the TV on.

She flips through some channels, pausing on _Entertainment News._ “God, this show is ridiculous. People eat this shit right up. It's pathetic.”

“I know,” Stiles agrees. It's why they usually never watch it.

The host smiles on the camera and says, _“Now we can finally get to the biggest news of the week. Jackson Whittemore has taken his mission to win back Stiles Stilinski's manager, Lydia Martin, via his Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook accounts. In one tweet, he claims that he 'messed up big and lost the love of [his] life' and in a long Facebook post, he explains that he let the industry get to him. He says that he doesn't care how long it takes, ladies and gentlemen, he's off the market until he can talk to Lydia—_ “

She changes the channel when a screenshot of Jackson's Facebook post pops up on the screen, zooming in on the words, _I will love you, Lydia Martin, until the end of time._

“Lydia?” Stiles asks, hesitating.

“We're not talking about it,” she says, voice tight. She settles on an old episode of _Friends_ and takes a few minutes before she finally leans against Stiles', accepting his hand in hers. “He's such an asshole.”

“He is,” Stiles agrees. “Promise me you won't unblock him to creep?”

“Fuck no,” Lydia says, shaking her head. “Nothing he has to say can fix it. I can't believe he made it so fucking public. That's just like him—seeking the attention.”

Stiles squeezes her hand, unsure what to say. She doesn't seem to want a response and leans her head against his shoulder.

In a few minutes, Chandler Bing has Lydia laughing again and Stiles thinks things might be okay.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“Stiles?” Isaac asks the following day. “Has Lydia—”

“I meant to text you about that. She has. Don't say anything though,” Stiles says.

“Is she okay?”

Stiles shrugs. He doesn't know how to answer the question.

“Scott said he's excited to visit,” Isaac says, changing the subject. “He also says that it's probably a good thing you never met up with Derek. It could damage your image if you get caught up in the Hale family mystery.”

“It could,” Stiles agrees, his voice distant. Or it might not.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

**UNKNOWN:** _hey cutie pie, I was thinking you should come to my party at the end of the month_

**STILES:** _who is this??_

**UNKNOWN:** _erica reyes, derek's manager  
_ **UNKNOWN:** _I'll send you more details but the party's on the 27_ _th_ _so don't be busy  
_ **ERICA:** _boyd says hi_  

**STILES:** _I'll be there  
_ **STILES:** _what's the occasion?_  

**ERICA:** _derek's birthday  
_ **ERICA:** _but don't worry, it won't be weird if you're there  
_ **ERICA:** _it'll be a nice surprise since he admires your work_

 

So Derek had said himself.

 

**STILES:** _I'll be there, Erica  
_ **STILES:** _tell Boyd I say hi_

**ERICA:** _you're the sweetest, will do  
_ **ERICA:** _stay out of trouble, love_

 

Honestly, what trouble could Stiles get into? The only thing he was doing that might be slightly risky is seeing Derek Hale behind the entire world's back. Hell, Derek had told him that he hadn't told anyone. The only ones who knew were himself, Derek, Heather, and Caitlin.

He smiles.

 

**STILES:** _you free tomorrow night_  

**DEREK:** _for you? yes.  
_ **DEREK:** _when and where?_

**STILES:** _fancy's on smith road_ _at 7pm_

**DEREK:** _see you then :)_

**STILES:** _see you then :)_

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

They meet at _Fancy's_ , a rundown diner on the edge of east Hollywood. The owner there is an old friend of Stiles—Danny Mahealani. Maybe they hadn't been the best of friends in high school, but Stiles paid well for Danny to order his employees to treat Stiles as though he was any other customer, and to keep their mouths shut about his appearances. Stiles and Danny get along well now, and sometimes they grab coffee at _The Goblin_ too, but Stiles no longer has the dying need to kiss Danny like he had in high school. Time changes things, he guesses.

“This isn't fancy,” Derek whispers, tugging his tie off. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head. “No way am I missing how good you look tonight.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Um, Stiles, I—”

“Too far. Sorry.” Stiles flips his menu open. “How was your past week?”

“It was good,” Derek says, shrugging. “I did about four auditions for some—”

“Are we going to talk about the fact that we both auditioned for _I Bet You Look Good on The Dance Floor?”_ Stiles interrupts.

Derek's eyes widen and he shrugs. “We can if you would like to.”

“I want you to know that I'll only be a little upset if you get the part,” Stiles says, feeling like an idiot for mentioning it at all.

“Stiles,” Derek says quietly. “If you want the part, tell me and I'll tell them I'm not interested.”

“No way! That's not fair. Just because we hung out once doesn't mean you can do stuff like that,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “That's so overboard, you have no idea. It's...well, I want you to know that there will be no hard feelings.”

Derek nods. “Well, it's a great script.”

“Isn't it?” Stiles sets down his menu. He already knows what he wants. “I laughed out loud and I'm hoping that they audition Allison Argent for the role of Crystal Roden.”

Derek beams. “She'd be perfect for that part. Although, I still haven't figured out who should play Holland Reed.”

“Me neither! She's the only character I couldn't really picture. I kept seeing a guy and—”

“Same,” Derek says with a nod. There's a moment of hesitation before Derek meets Stiles' eyes to say, “What if we talked to the director—Aiden's an old friend of mine, sort of—and pitch the idea of two guys?”

“And what...we play them?” Stiles asks.

“Why not?” Derek counters. “What's stopping us from pitching the idea?”

“I—nothing.” Stiles grins. “In fact, it's kind of brilliant.”

“I'll see if I can set up a meeting.”

“That'd be so cool!” Stiles smiles before he asks, “Wait, does Aiden have a twin brother?”

“Yeah. Ethan or something.”

“I know Ethan!” Stiles says. He leans forward to whisper. “He's actually the ex-boyfriend of the guy who owns this place.”

“And the guy who owns this place is...?” Derek asks.

“Danny. A guy I know from high school.”

“Are you ready to order?” a voice comes from beside them. They order quickly and their waiter disappears, but the drool in the corner of their mouth was obvious that they had eyes and those eyes were looking at Derek. Stiles tries not to be jealous—it's not his place to be. But _still._

“I called Laura this morning. She's reading the contracts for a third time, because she thinks she might be on to something.”

“Tell Laura she's my queen,” Stiles says, laughing. “But don't ever let Lydia know.”

“Well,” Derek rubs his head. “I can't really tell either of them anything. I got the impression that we're keeping this...thing quiet.”

“We are,” Stiles says, nodding. “Don't worry.”

“I hope you're not offended!”

“Not at all. I'd rather Lydia and Isaac not know yet anyway. They're a little skeptical about the idea.”

“Speaking of Lydia, Jackson's gone a little...” Derek hesitates before finishing with, “desperate.”

“I blocked all his stuff on social media for Lydia. What's he been doing?” Stiles asks.

Derek pulls out his phone and searches something. Then he pushes it across the table at Stiles. “It's probably better if you look for yourself.”

Stiles sees that Derek's opened Jackson's public letter to Lydia. He glances at Derek, unsure if it's okay to read it, and Derek gives him the smallest nod.

 

_Lydia Martin, if you're reading this, I want you to know that I fucked up. I fucked up horribly. You were the one person who held my hand through all of the juggling, all the terrible gigs, and when I found out I was adopted._

 

“He mentions his adoption?” Stiles breathes. That had always been a _very_ touchy subject with Jackson.

“Yeah, the media blew that out of proportion.”

 

_My parents tried to buy me the world. They wanted me to feel loved and cared for, but I never did. It wasn't their fault. They gave me everything I needed except their actual love. I always felt a little hollow inside, a little lonely and broken. Then you swept into my life, demanded that I make room for you. I tried to push you away at first. How could someone with such beauty and such heart ever care for a beast like me?_

 

“If you didn't know Jackson personally, you'd think he was laying it on thick,” Stiles murmurs.

“And if you do know him personally?” Derek prompts.

“You'd know that he hates himself more than anyone,” Stiles says. He glances at Derek. “He's always been one of those people who are inherently lost. Lydia balanced him out though.”

“So he says,” Derek answers.

 

_You never took my bull shit answers, yet you always took me more seriously than anyone else. You told me that dating me started off as a hot fling, a power thing, and then it turned real for you. It was always real for me. It was always there, waiting to be discovered._

_My parents may have tried to buy me the world, Lydia, but you gave me the world with the first words you ever spoke to me: “Back off, asshole. I'm here for work and your pick-up line was lame.” You're right, it was lame because there will never be enough words in the world to describe how beautiful you are to me._

_I know I messed up. I know that leaving you was a stupid, idiotic, dumb thing to do. I had to learn the hard way that sometimes you don't know what you have until it's gone. I want to fix it. I want to work on us. I want to make our relationship unbreakable. If you're reading this, I want you to know that I will love you until the end of time. If you wish for me to leave you alone, please say so. Until then, I want to prove how much I care about you._

_You brought me light when I needed it most, and I left you in the dark. I want to make this right. I need to make this right. I was wrong, Lydia. I can't live without you. I can't live knowing how much pain I have caused you._

_I am so sorry for hurting you. I will love you, Lydia Martin, until the end of time. I would like to make it up to you, because Lydia darling, you're the fire the ignites my soul._

_Jackson._

 

“Holy shit,” Stiles whispers when he finishes. “I feel like I should show that to Lydia?”

“Maybe?” Derek says, scrunching his nose. “I don't know. You know Lydia better than I do.”

“How _do_ you know Lydia?” Stiles asks. “You seemed friendly at the party.”

“We've run into each other from time to time,” Derek says casually. “But Jackson...well, there are a few other posts. He's pretty sentimental, huh?”

Stiles snorts. “It's hilarious because he's not. Not really. He's actually a huge dickhead. But then you stick him in a room with Lydia, and he's fucking pudding. She's made him watch The Notebook more times than I can count.”

“I could see it. Considering he's been very careful about what he publishes on social media, I can't help but think that this is Jackson's big grand gesture to win her back,” Derek says, a thoughtful look on his face.

“It's his version of a grand gesture.”

“And yours?” Derek asks.

“Something quiet, simple, but meaningful.” Stiles shrugs. “So Erica invited me to your birthday party.”

Derek's eyebrows shoot up. “She did?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?” Stiles asks.

“Depends. Are you going to come?”

Stiles' chest tightens. He shrugs. “I was thinking about it but...”

“You should.”

“I—okay,” Stiles says, grinning. “I'll be there then.”

“Okay, great.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“I think you should read this,” Stiles says that night when he curls up on the couch beside Lydia. She takes his phone from her and frowns when she sees the name on the screen. “Lydia, wait, just read it.”

“I thought you blocked him.”

“I did, but a friend showed me this.” Stiles glances over at Isaac. They'd texted on his way home about this. Isaac had been worried, but he'd read it and agreed. Lydia should know. Stiles runs a hand through his hair, hoping tensions are high enough that no one asks which friend.

“Fine,” Lydia mutters. She starts reading and her tight lips and hard face soon turns to quivering lips and a heartbroken look.

“Lydia?” Stiles asks after a few minutes.

_“Sh,”_ she snaps. She continues to read. Then Stiles and Isaac watch her scroll up to the top to read it all over again. There are big tears rolling down her cheeks now and Stiles reaches out to put a comforting hand on her leg. She slips one hand into his and squeezes tightly. “I can't breathe.”

“Lydia, it's going to be okay.” Isaac's at her other side now, burying himself into her and holding her tightly. “It's going to be okay.”

“I can't—I can't—no,” Lydia inhales sharply, and she's trembling. She pulls Isaac and Stiles close to her. Her body shakes as she lets out the sobs she's been holding in. She drops Stiles' phone, letting it slide to the ground, and she squeezes Isaac's hand in her free one. “How could he do this to me? How could he—he—he—does he love me at all?”

“Did that letter not prove it to you?” Isaac asks the question Stiles had been wondering.

She shakes her head, and in between sobs, answers. “No. No. No, no, no. It's a publicity stunt. That's all. Goddammit, I—I can't believe—he, he did this.”

“How do you know it's a publicity stunt?” Stiles asks quietly. He strokes her hair.

She shakes her head. “It can't be real.”

Stiles questions the decision to show her now. Isaac meets his eyes and shakes his head once. Without a word, Isaac lets him know that it's not his fault. They both wrap themselves around Lydia and she lets out the sobs of heartbreak.

“I'm so sorry,” Stiles whispers.

She shakes her head. “No, don't be sorry. I needed to see it.”

Stiles kisses her head and strokes her hair some more. For the next three hours, she quiets down, only occasionally breaking out into sobbing fits. Stiles and Isaac carry her up to her bed again, and Stiles winces when they turn off her lights.

“I fucked up.”

“She needed to see,” Isaac tells him, a hand on Stiles' shoulder. “She'll work out how she feels. Just you wait and see.”

“I guess.”

But that night when Stiles crawls into bed, he's surprised by a text message waiting for him.

 

**DEREK:** _how'd it go with Lydia?_  

**STILES:** _badly, she sobbed for three hours  
_ **STILES:** _she didn't believe it was real_  

**DEREK:** _I'm so sorry  
_ **DEREK:** _maybe I shouldn't have shown you_

**STILES:** _this isn't your fault  
_ **STILES:** _she'll be okay; she's a tough cookie_

**DEREK:** _I hope so  
_ **DEREK:** _is it bad timing if I ask when we're meeting next?_

**STILES:** _honestly I'm not sure there's ever a bad time to ask that  
_ **STILES:** _what do you want to do next?_

**DEREK:** _want to visit aiden?_

**STILES:** _lol sure but that's not going to be the only thing we do  
_ **STILES:** _wanna dress up as civilians and be tourists?_

**DEREK:** _oddly, yes I do  
_ **DEREK:** _can we go on a tour bus?_  

**STILES:** _I know a friend who knows a friend_

**DEREK:** _why am I not surprised?_

**STILES:** _:) I really like our friendship_

**DEREK:** _yeah me too  
_ **DEREK:** _laura just texted me  
_ **DEREK:** _she's taking the contract to another lawyer but she thinks she found something!_  

**STILES:** _THAT'S AMAZING  
_ **STILES:** _oh my god!  
_ **STILES:** _I'll tell Lydia tomorrow; it should cheer her up :_  

**DEREK:** _:)  
_ **DEREK:** _also this might be bad timing but um  
_ **DEREK:** _erica mentioned you came out to her_

**STILES:** _oh  
_ **STILES:** _I did, yes_  

**DEREK:** _the only reason she told me is because she kinda knows about us?_

**STILES:** _that's cool_

**DEREK:** _okay good  
_ **DEREK:** _if you have any questions or concerns about coming out to your fans, you can always ask me_  

**STILES:** _oh wow  
_ **STILES:** _thanks  
_ **STILES:** _I kind of want to surprise everyone, slip it casually into an interview or something_

**DEREK:** _you'll give Lydia a heart attac_  

**STILES:** _nawh  
_ **STILES:** _your uncle though_  

**DEREK:** _then you better do it!  
_ **DEREK:** _next interview!_

**STILES:** _ha-ha, you're so funny_

**DEREK:** _bet I made you smile though :)_

**STILES:** _and I bet you look good on the dance floor ;_  

**DEREK:** _smooth-talker_

**STILES:** _it's kind of my thing_

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

Stiles laughs harder than he means to when he sees Derek in a brunette wig and glasses. Derek snorts when Stiles pulls on a blonde wig and a baseball cap. Derek tugs at Stiles' oversize sweater.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Wait until you see what I brought—” Stiles reaches into his car and pulls out a fanny pack. He ties it around his waist. “Do we look like a couple of tourists now or what?”

Derek grins and pulls out his big camera from behind his back. He hangs it on his neck. “Now we do. When does the bus leave?”

“Soon.” Stiles locks up his car and walks with Derek towards the entrance of the station.

They spend the afternoon at all of the tourist spots in L.A., taking a tour through the Warner Bros studio and all. Derek snaps more photos of Stiles than the surrounding areas, and they take goofy selfies.

It hurts Stiles that those photos will never be seen or enjoyed by anyone else. But they're theirs and no one can take it away from them.

Stiles almost kisses Derek six times before he has to finally pull himself away and think about how they're barely friends. But god, they feel like they could be so much more.

Derek rushes to the front of the Double Decker bus to take a photo of the building ahead of them. When he walks back to his seat with Stiles, they share a smile that Stiles can only wish looks a fraction like the way Erica and Boyd look at each other. He hopes so.

“Today's been amazing.”

“I agree,” Stiles murmurs. His leg rests against Derek's and neither of them are in a rush to move. “I'm glad you came.”

“Me too.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“You've managed to stay out of the headlines lately,” Ellen teases him with a easy smile. She's always been the most professional interviewer that Stiles has had to deal with before. “What gives, Stiles?”

Stiles smiles into the camera and says, “I've been trying to figure out how to announce that I'm bisexual.”

Ellen's jaw doesn't drop, but her eyes grow a bit wider. She doesn't miss a step though. “Congratulations on coming out. Have you announced it anywhere else yet? Am I behind the times?”

“Nope. This is the official announcement. I'm bisexual, and for anyone who may be confused about the term, it means that I am into _both_ males and females,” Stiles says, winking at the camera. “At least the ones who interest me.”

Ellen claps her hands and the live audience hops up on their feet to give him a standing ovation. Stiles glances to see Lydia standing beside the camera, proud as can be. He's shocked that she isn't sending him daggers for not telling him what little stunt he was going to pull. The only one who had known had been Derek. They'd spent four hours at _The Goblin_ last night talking about it.

Derek had reminded Stiles about six times that he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, but Stiles had heard Erica's voice in the back of his head every time he leaned towards not going public. For someone he'd only met once, she'd sure left one hell of an impression on him. Stiles fidgets with his hands, something he hadn't done since his first ten interviews or so years ago.

“I'm guessing you'll see my name in the headlines more often now, because I just opened the playing field to have my heart broken by both genders,” Stiles teases. “I'll never be able to talk to someone again without it hitting the papers that I've been rejected _again.”_

Ellen laughs. “Serious talk—have you ever actually had your heart broken before?”

Stiles considers Lydia, considers his high school crush on Danny, and then thinks of Derek. He shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“If you had your heart broken, do you think you'd react the way Jackson Whittemore has about your manager, Lydia Martin?” Ellen asks, clearly hoping for a juicy topic.

“I think that everyone deals with heartbreak in their own way, and it's not our place to judge how someone else handles it.”

“Well put, Stilinski,” Ellen says, grinning. “Do you have the inside scoop on the Whittemore-Martin romance though? Will we see them reunited soon?”

“What I can tell you,” Stiles says, his eyes flickering over Ellen's shoulder towards Lydia. She's clasping both her hands in front of her, expression hard. He gives her the tiniest of nods before he finishes with, “is that Jackson is in a lot of emotional pain right now since their breakup. He's made that very obvious on his Facebook page. I feel as though everyone should take a step away from the situation and let them have some peace to figure it out.”

“He made it very public though,” Ellen points out.

“He did, but it doesn't mean it's not still personal. I've read comments from fans who want to _hurt_ Lydia because of it. Fans who are begging for attention from Jackson, begging for him to choose them instead, and I would like to politely ask everyone to give the two of them time. It's a delicate situation, and it makes it that much harder for them to deal with if it's all anyone talks about. Think of how much a breakup can hurt you. Now picture _everyone_ talking about it. It's not easy, so please respect that.”

Stiles glances back to Lydia who's smiling at him. He relaxes a little and Ellen gives him a thoughtful expression. “Stiles Stilinski, you've grown up to be quite the person. I am proud of how far you've come.”

“Thank you. Was I a mess before?” Stiles teases.

“Less confident, for sure.” Ellen reaches out to put her hand on his.

“I appreciate that,” Stiles says, feeling his heart pound a little harder.

“Ladies and gentlemen and other people, I'd like to say a _huge_ thank you to Stiles Stilinski for coming on the show today. I ask that you only send Stiles your support and your love. Now, Stiles, would you like to discuss it further?”

“I only want to say that a wise woman told me to follow my heart, do things at my pace, and embrace who I am. Another wise woman told me that it would be a selfish thing to keep something so important to who I am away from my fans. I don't want you to feel alone.”

“Lovely words from such a talented actor,” Ellen says, smiling. “I hear you've auditioned for the role of Dylan Posey in _I Bet You'Look Good on the Dance Floor.”_

“I have. The script is absolutely amazing,” Stiles says, grinning. “I might not get the part, and that's fine, but everyone is going to love it anyway.”

“Well good luck to you!” Ellen says. The crowd cheers.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“Stiles, you went so far off-script,” Lydia says, grinning when his segment on the show is done. He rushes forward and she throws her arms around him. He can feel the emotions pouring from him. “You were great.”

“I love you, Lyds.”

“I love you too, muffin. Now let's go get you changed. We're going to have to do a lot of prep-work. You know you're going to be the hot news for a while,” Lydia says as they walk into his change room.

“They'll stop talking about you and Jackson,” Stiles points out.

Lydia freezes. “Stiles, that's not why—”

“No, it's not the only reason. But a nice bonus.”

“Did Peter know you were going to do this?” Lydia asks, huffing as she remembers there's a third partner in the loop.

“I thought he was still out of the country.”

“Oh boy.” Lydia shifts on her feet. Her phone starts ringing as if on a cue. She eyes him before she answers. “Peter, darling, did you see that one coming?”

Stiles starts to change as she talks.

“No, I had no idea. He didn't tell me a thing. Apparently, he felt that it was time,” Lydia nods in agreement with whatever Peter's yelling about. “Look, it was mentioned that he auditioned for this new movie and hopes to get it, so perhaps this has given him an edge.”

Stiles, in only his boxers, glances around for his t-shirt. Lydia tosses it at him and rolls her eyes.

“Listen, Peter, it's _done._ Now we have to deal with it. No,” Lydia's tone turns sharp and cold. “You will listen to _me._ You've been out of the country for almost four weeks now. When you decide to come back from your pity party vacation and do your job properly, we'll discuss Stiles' future together. Until then, enjoy yourself. I've got this covered.”

Lydia hangs up without waiting for a response. She huffs. “The nerve that asshole has.”

“I know. Where did I put my pants?” Stiles asks. She reaches over the back of a chair and tosses them at him.

Stiles tries to focus on her rant about Peter, but his phone buzzes and he picks it up.

 

**DEREK:** _you did great today :)_

**STILES:** _thanks :) Peter called—he's pissed lol_

**DEREK:** _I have some news  
_ **DEREK:** _LAURA FOUND A LOOPHOLE TO GET YOU OUT OF YOUR CONTRACT_

 

Stiles almost drops his phone. He looks up at Lydia. “Laura Hale found a loophole.”

“Shut up,” Lydia whispers. She grins. “This is turning out to be an excellent day. Get the details. We have to go to _The Goblin_ to celebrate.”

“Let's get Isaac and do _Fancy's_ instead.”

“Sure, whatever. We'll go later tonight. Until then, I have to control the news of you coming out. I want to get back to my office,” Lydia tells him.

“Sounds like a plan.”

When they get into the car, Stiles types a response.

 

**STILES:** _what's the loophole?_

**DEREK:** _Peter can't miss more than twenty-one days in a row of work  
_ **DEREK:** _didn't you say he's been gone for almost four weeks?_  

**STILES:** _yes he has! IT WAS THAT SIMPLE?_

**DEREK:** _Laura says that after 3 weeks—if it wasn't confirmed by you—you have the right to terminate the contract to hire a new agent_

**STILES:** _IT WASN'T CONFIRMED BY ME I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HE WAS LEAVING  
_ **STILES:** _this is awesome, thank your sister for me!!_

 

“Stiles?” Lydia asks.

“Yeah?” His head comes up, and he tries to control the smile on his face.

“Are you _texting_ Derek Hale?” she asks him.

“I—yeah,” Stiles shrugs. “We exchanged numbers.”

Lydia eyes him a little more and simply says, “Well, be careful. Now that you're officially out, you're going to be connected to every man you've ever looked at in a romance light.”

“Right, of course.”

Would it be terrible to be seen as Derek's boyfriend? He knows they're only friends. They've talked about how lonely it can get, with no one understanding how awful crowds can be, or how exhausting tours are. They're both in a strange lull in their careers where they're auditioning for parts and both avoiding most public appearances. Being friends with Derek is easy. He's upfront and honest, he's funny, and he genuinely wants to see Stiles succeed.

Stiles knows his little celebrity crush has become more, but he won't risk losing Derek's friendship over it.

“C'mon kid, we've got work to do.”

Stiles blinks and realizes they're in front of his house. She's holding her hand out to help him out of the car. He takes it, only to be jerked forward. Lydia's dragging him inside.

It's going to be a long day.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“Should we tell our friends about this?” Derek asks one afternoon not long later. It'd been hard to meet up after Stiles' big announcement, so when they got a break, they found themselves in the corner table at _The Goblin._ Stiles looks up from his laptop.

“Should we? I don't know. Derek...what exactly _are_ we?” Stiles whispers, despite the fact that Heather and Caitlin had closed the place down for them.

“Friends?” Derek asks, as though he's not quite sure either. “I hate lying to Erica about where I'm going.”

“I...yeah, I hate lying to Lydia and Isaac too. But what if they don't get it?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “Then they don't get it. But it's not going to make me stop spending time with you. Besides, it can't be a huge shock that we've been talking to each other. I mean, I've been keeping you in the loop about Laura.”

“Oh god, they tell Peter tomorrow.” Stiles rubs the bridge of his nose. “It's going to be hectic.”

Derek reaches out and lets his hand hover beside Stiles'. “I...you can text me about it.”

“Derek?” Stiles asks, brushing his hand against Derek's lightly. They leave their hands resting beside one another. “Will you tell me what happened now?”

Derek studies Stiles for a moment. Then he starts talking, his tone quiet. “They could never prove it, hence why he's out of jail. But we all know. It happened while I was still in high school—before Peter relocated us to Beacon Hills. My principal called my sisters and I to her office. She sat us down and told us that there had been a fire. It was a terrible fire. It'd destroyed our entire house. Our...our parents were trapped in the basement.”

Stiles grabs Derek's hand now and squeezes gently. He's had practice at comforting people.

“Peter was the one who apparently found them. But we all know. He had come around to complain about not having enough money. He'd gambled most of it away. My parents had said no. Peter yelled about how the hell two famous producers like them wouldn't miss the money if they just gave it to him. He was desperate. Our parents told us to go to school.”

“I had no idea,” Stiles whispers, shuddering to think that Peter had been his agent for so long now.

“They couldn't find proof, but someone had knocked something in front of the basement door so they couldn't get out. The windows had been nailed shut from the outside.” Derek sighs. “Peter claimed that they'd nailed them shut years ago so Cora, Laura, and I wouldn't sneak out.”

“But they hadn't.”

“Laura and I had gone to a party the weekend before. They weren't nailed shut then.” Derek shifts and then meets Stiles' eyes. “We all know it's the truth. Laura was older than eighteen. We were rich kids. We disowned Peter as family and we continued on with our parents work. Laura became a lawyer, Cora took over their production company, and I'm an actor. Before Laura got legal rights over Cora and I, Peter moved us to Beacon Hills. I was only there for a few weeks before I applied for my G.E.D. instead. Cora had made a friend with Erica and Boyd, so she stayed.”

“Was it lonely for the three of you?” Stiles asks, rubbing his thumb on Derek's hand.

“Lonely? I don't think I've ever been asked that.” Derek shakes his head. “It wasn't always. But there are some things that two sisters can't understand or that I've tried to protect them from. We were pretty young when Peter became your agent. Still naive and unsure how to go about talking you out of it.”

“It's okay. Peter hasn't been so bad for me. He's been stealing money from me and I can't prove it, but other than that—”

“You never told me that.”

“Well, that's because I—”

“I'll ask Boyd to look into it. He's the best private eye that you will get. He'll find some proof,” Derek promises. “You'll get your money back.”

“I'm not hurting for money by any means. But I like donating to charity and—well, he's taking it away from other people.”

“No longer,” Derek says, with a nod. “Stiles?”

“Hm?”

“What are we?”

Stiles looks at him. “I'm—I'm not sure, but I don't think we're just friends.”

“Me neither,” Derek murmurs. He squeezes Stiles' hand.

They sit in silence like that for a while, neither one of them seeming uncomfortable. Eventually, Stiles' cell phone buzzes and he picks it up from the table. He frowns.

“What the hell?”

 

**UNKNOWN:** _Stiles, it's Jackson. Can we meet?_

 

“Everything okay?”

“Jackson wants to meet with me?” Stiles says confused. “I'm sure it's about Lydia but...why me?”

“You're closest to Lydia. Maybe he has some of her stuff to give back to her or something,” Derek says, shrugging.

“Maybe.”

With his free hand, he types back a response.

 

**STILES:** _why?_  

**JACKSON:** _I screwed up. I need to make it better_

**STILES:** _look, tread carefully, or else Lydia will get a restraining order or something  
_ **STILES:** _I think you should leave her alone for now, she's doing okay_  

**JACKSON:** _can you tell her the photo of me kissing that girl was from my new show?_

**STILES:** _yeah_

**JACKSON:** _thanks_

 

“Jackson's never seemed so lost before,” Stiles comments s he puts his phone down. “I never pretended to understand their love for each other, y'know? It always seemed messy and confusing. But I never doubted that they cared for one another.”

“Does it always have to be messy and confusing?”

“I don't know.” Stiles smiles softly at Derek. “I'll tell Lydia, Isaac, and Scott about us if you tell your sisters and Erica and Boyd.”

“What am I telling them?” Derek asks.

“Maybe that we're seeing each other? That we're still figuring it out?” Stiles suggests. “Unless you have a more definite answer.”

“I'd like to think we're dating,” Derek teases.

“Dating it is then,” Stiles says. He can't stop the wide smile from crossing his face and he doesn't want to. Derek's beaming back at him and things feel like they're going to be alright.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

When Stiles gets home that night, he's talked himself into telling his friends. He's ready to confess, except the second he sees Lydia and Isaac, he can tell it's not a good time. Lydia glares at him.

“Where the hell have you been?” she demands.

Stiles remembers turning his phone off after texting Jackson, but he didn't think it was that big of a deal. “What did I miss?”

“According to Twitter, every online paper, and Facebook, you're dating Derek Hale,” Isaac fills in quickly.

Lydia launches towards Stiles. “Tell me it's not fucking true, Stiles. Tell me that you haven't been seeing Hale behind our backs.”

“Well, I—”

“Are you fucking serious? Stiles, we've had an agreement since day one. You _never_ keep secrets from me, so I'm not shocked to shit when a reporter asks me about it during _your press conference_ that you never showed to.”

“Press conference?” Stiles echos, voice squeaky as the memory hits him like a ton of bricks. He slaps his forehead. “No, no, no, I can't believe it. I totally spaced about the press conference, Lyds. I'm so sorry. I completely forgot.”

“And the rumours?” Lydia demands, hands on her waist.

“Sort of true. We literally _just_ agreed to tell our friends tonight. I had no idea it'd become public knowledge,” Stiles whines.

“Everything you do becomes public knowledge. You know this. God,” Lydia mutters. “How could you let this happen? How could you let me be so blindsided?”

“Lydia, I'm so sorry.” He flops down on the couch beside Isaac and winces. “What are we going to do?”

“We're going to deny the relationship. We're going to say that you two are considering working on a project together. We're going to make sure that you do not have to deal with the tabloids telling lies about your relationship with Derek Hale.” Lydia straightens her shoulders. “We're going to make sure that you don't have your entire relationship spread on every magazine cover like...like Jackson and I had.”

“Oh, Lydia.” Stiles reaches out for her but she jerks away.

“I've already been talking to Erica. It's been decided,” Lydia snaps. “You two can carry on dating each other but under _our_ rules. We have not worked _this hard_ for you two to have it thrown in our faces. We also are very happy for you both and want you to have the best chance you can get.”

Stiles gets up from the couch to wrap his arms around her. She settles into the embrace for only a moment before she pushes him off.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Alright, get packed up. We're going to the Hales for dinner.”

“We are?” Stiles asks, confused.

“Consider it an obligatory family dinner,” Isaac says, chuckling. “We have to make sure this Derek guy is good for you and vice versa.”

“But I should get ready for tomorrow when Scott comes,” Stiles whines.

“Nope,” Isaac answers, getting up. He puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I'll take care of that tomorrow. Let's get ready, princess.”

“This is so rushed, goddammit.”

“Erica and I need to know what we're working with,” Lydia snaps. “So get changed and start talking.”

“I—fine,” Stiles grumbles. He shouts as he runs up the stairs, “If I had known you were going to be _this_ involved in my life, I wouldn't have hired you!”

He swears he hears Lydia laugh.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

Dinner goes surprisingly well. Lydia's cooled off and spends most of the night cracking jokes and jabs at Stiles and Derek with Erica. Derek's sisters, Cora and Laura, are both loud, blunt, and hilarious. Stiles only has a vague memory of Cora from her last few months spent at Beacon High.

When Stiles had first arrived, Malia had introduced him to her girlfriend, Kira. She'd given him a worried smile and he'd thanked her for what she did for him. Malia smiled after that, instantly relaxing enough to grab Kira's hand and disappear for twenty minutes before dinner. Now Malia has been teasing Stiles about how the media will have a field day with the infamous heart-breaker, Derek, with the heart-breakee, Stiles.

Boyd's mostly quiet, but every time he looks at Erica, it's as if he's seeing the stars for the first time. Stiles wonders if Derek will ever look at him like that. He meets his eyes and they both smile. Tonight could've gone horribly.

It was spent mostly in embarrassing Derek and Stiles by telling stories from their past. Everyone else laughed and asked ridiculous questions. Stiles stays unusually quiet as he watches Derek's reaction to things. He laughs and shares some jokes with Derek's sisters, but other than that, he's more curious to see how Derek feels about the night. He hadn't had a chance to text him and find out, because Lydia and Isaac made him talk about their entire relationship.

After dessert has been served, and all of their nosy questions seemed to have been satisfied, Derek and Stiles are no longer the topic of conversation. Derek nods towards the door before he stands up and slips out of the room.

Stiles follows him, making sure that everyone else is preoccupied in conversation. He walks down the hall, a little unsure where Derek's gone, when a hand reaches out from a door and yanks him in.

Stiles stumbles but it doesn't matter because Derek's hands are on his waist and holding him upright. Derek pulls Stiles into him.

“Hey,” he whispers. He has his cell phone flashlight on, but pointed away from their faces. It gives off a slight glow.

“Hey! Our family is a little crazy, huh?” Stiles asks, keeping his voice down.

“No kidding. Did you get jumped on the second you got home tonight too?”

“Yep. I still have no idea if Lydia's happy or mad at me,” Stiles admits. He brushes his fingertips against Derek's cheek. “I feel like they're deciding our lives for us.”

“They mean well,” Derek murmurs. His breath hot against Stiles' lips. “I shot Aiden a text message. We can have a meeting with him on Tuesday.”

“That's so far away,” Stiles says, shimming closer to Derek. “I think I'm ready to pitch the idea to him.”

“Same,” Derek says. “Do you still want to do this?”

“This? As in us?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“I wasn't sure if our nutty family out there scared you off.” Derek rests his forehead against Stiles'.

“Not at all.” For the first time, Stiles peeks to see what room they're in. It seems to simply be a hall closet. He can barely see the edges of some coats hanging beside him. “Did they scare you?”

“No.” Derek nudges closer, if that's possible. “Stiles, it's honestly so difficult to meet anyone in this industry and feel...anything for them. It's difficult knowing if a person's being honest or if they just want to launch themselves further above. Most actors play games and relish the fame. Most would try to destroy each other for the same part on a movie.”

“But?” Stiles asks, hopeful.

“But the more I get to know you, the more I realize that you are simply yourself.” Derek's breathing hitches when Stiles runs a finger down the center of Derek's back. “You don't care about being famous. You want to be good, to do good. You're in the industry for the right reasons.”

“Derek?” Stiles breathes. “The more I get to know you, the more I wish we were two normal guys who met at a coffee shop.”

“Maybe in another life,” Derek tells him.

_“I have no idea where they could've gone.”_ Cora's voice comes from the hallway.

Derek jerks him and Stiles through the coats and against the wall. Derek presses a finger to his lips and turns off his cell phone's flashlight. Stiles' heart beats fast and hard when the door opens.

Stiles can see Cora through a small crack of the coats, and he's sure she sees their legs.

But Cora calls out, _“They're not in the closet!”_

The door shuts behind her.

Stiles starts to breathe again and Derek says, “I knew there was a reason she was my favourite sister.”

Stiles lets out a small laugh and settles into Derek's hold. “Is our first kiss going to be in a hall closet hiding from our family?”

“Unless you don't—” Stiles knows how to effectively shut a person up. He's seen Lydia do it many times to Jackson. _No wonder why she did it so often,_ Stiles thinks as he digs his fingers into Derek's head. _It's amazing._

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“Do you love him?” Scott asks, kicking his shoes off and sitting down in Isaac's usual chair.

“I...no,” Stiles shrugs. “It's too soon to know.”

“You love him,” Scott says simply. He smiles. “I'm happy for you, buddy.”

“Thanks. It's a little weird. Like it happened and I wasn't expecting it. Are you going to finally tell Isaac how you feel about him?” Stiles asks.

“Changing subjects,” Scott remarks, eyebrows in the air. “Interesting. You really care about this guy.”

“Avoiding topics...” Stiles trails off.

Scott beams. “I'm going to tell him. I have to wait for the right moment.”

“Tell who what?” Isaac asks, coming into the living room with two mugs in his hands. He sets one down on the coffee table in front of Scott.

“Um.”

“He wanted to tell you that he's trying to get some time off next summer to visit you for longer,” Stiles jumps in.

Isaac's face lights up. “That's great! Scott, I would—”

“It's not true.” Scott jumps to his feet. “I wanted to tell you that I'm crazy about you.”

“You—you are?” Isaac stutters. “Scott, I...you mean it?”

“I mean it.”

Then they're kissing. Stiles leaves with a feeling he won't be seeing much of either of them this weekend.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“You want the lead roles to be played by two guys?” Aiden asks, his tone giving away absolutely nothing about how he feels.

“It might spark some controversy, we know, _but_ what's stopping you?” Stiles asks, wanting to reach out and grab Derek's hand.

Aiden eyes them both.

“A lot of things _should_ be stopping me,” he tells them. “But I think it's a fucking fantastic idea. We couldn't decide between you two, so there's been a lot of arguing here in the offices. No one even suggested we give you both a lead role. We've already hired Allison Argent, and we all know that her and Derek on a screen creates gold. So. Alright, I'll run it pass the others, but I have a feeling this might be a compromise that everyone agrees with.”

“Really?” Derek asks, surprised.

Stiles elbows him. “That's great, thank you so much for hearing our pitch. Tell your brother I send my best.”

Aiden nods. “I'll do that. Thanks for coming in boys.”

They walk professionally out of the room until they get out of the building. Then Stiles is jumping up in the air. “We did it! We actually did it! He's going to consider it!”

“Come here,” Derek says, tugging on Stiles' hand. He presses him against their car and leans in for a kiss.

It goes against all the rules that had been stated to them early last week. Neither of them care. They don't notice any paparazzi snapping photos of them from the bushes. It doesn't matter to them, not anymore.

They know what's real and what's not.

“Stiles, let's get out of here.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“Um, what's Jackson doing in front of my house?” Stiles asks when they pull up in his driveway.

“Probably trying to win Lydia back,” Derek answers as though Stiles has no clue.

They get out of his car and that's when Stiles sees Lydia sitting on the porch. Stiles puts a hand out to stop Derek from moving any further. Neither of them had notice their arrival. She's shaking her head. “Jackson, it's not that easy, goddammit! You can't show up and expect one letter makes everything better.”

“Lydia, I wrote a letter every day!” Jackson picks up a box that had been sitting at his feet. “Please. Just look at them.”

“I...every day?” Lydia asks, coming around to face Jackson now. She hesitates before she steps down to open the box. She thumbs through them. “There are hundreds of letters here, Jackson.”

“Sometimes I had to write more than one a day,” Jackson grumbles. “Lydia, you're everything to me. I was an idiot. I was such an idiot.”

“I—wow. You still love me?”

“Always and forever,” Jackson promises. “Do you...do you still love me?”

“Always and forever,” Lydia says. “But you really hurt me.”

“Let me spend a life time making it up to you. Let me make you happy until I die.”

“Dramatic,” Lydia comments. But she leans down and presses her lips lightly and quickly against Jackson's.

Derek's tugging at Stiles to get back into the car. “Alright, so your place is out.”

“Yours?” Stiles asks. “We can hang out with Taco.”

“I'd rather my cat not witness the things I'd like to do to you,” Derek points out. He pulls out his phone. “And I don't think my place is the best place to go to. Erica's sent me some messages...turns out the public knows we're together.”

Stiles leans forward to peek at his phone. A couple of the messages catches Stiles' eyes in particular.

 

**ERICA:** _you will both be uninvited to your birthday party this weekend if you don't tell me what the hell happened right now  
_ **ERICA:** _by the way, Peter's pretty pissed off but Laura made sure he was aware that he can't touch Stiles or communicate with him any longer, not until it goes through the proper channels_

 

He sighs and tells his driver to take him to a particular hotel on the edge of west Hollywood.

“People saw us kissing,” Stiles mumbles.

“Yep. On a brighter note, there's one text message in this mess that says Boyd figured out how Peter's been swindling you out of money so he's going to the police with his evidence tomorrow.”

“We only have one more day before our lives get hella complicated,” Stiles says.

“Where are you taking me?” Derek asks, clearly realizing that Stiles had given their driver a destination.

“It's a surprise,” Stiles says with a wink. Derek scrolls through some of the headlines on his twitter feed.

 

**_The Heart-Breaker falls for the Heart-Breakee_ **

_**Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski seen kissing, are they together now?** _

 

“Hey look at this one,” Derek says, turning his phone to face Stiles.

 

_**Whittemore and Martin reunited at last** _

_**Lydia Martin forgives Jackson Whittemore, says: you're the fire in my soul** _

 

“That was fast,” Stiles breathes. “Jeez, these people are animals.”

 

_**Hale and Stilinski seen leaving Aiden Productions, happy—who got the part of Dylan Posey?** _

_**How long until Hale breaks Stilinski's heart?** _

 

“Lydia and Erica are going to flip shit,” Derek murmurs, scrolling through his Twitter feed.

“We might have to run from them too. Just for a while,” Stiles suggests.

“Where do you suggest?” Derek asks. “I hate to break it to you, but we're pretty big news right now.”

It comes as no surprise to Derek when Stiles tells him that he has a friend who has a hotel that uses their utmost discretion when he visits. No one will disturb them there.

“You don't doubt me, do you?” Stiles asks, grinning at Derek. They intertwine their fingers. “Because I know places.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thank you fic for [Becky,](http://www.screwitanddoitanyway.tumblr.com) who donated money to my GoFundMe page because both of my laptops died completely. I had a lot of surprise expenses around that time, and I seriously appreciate everyone who donated. It helped me out immensely! Read more about the GoFundMe deal [here.](http://www.foxerica.tumblr.com/faqabout)
> 
> Check out this tag on my blog for any updates regarding those who have donated (i.e. the list of who's getting a fic, when, and what length/etc they will be receiving) if you haven't already. **IF YOUR INFORMATION IS STILL MISSING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IMMEDIATELY.**
> 
> I've been writing a lot of ficlets lately, and I haven't been posting them all on ao3, so feel free to check out [this tag](http://www.foxerica.tumblr.com/tagged/fox%20erica%20writes) if you want to read some ridiculous Teen Wolf fluff.
> 
>  
> 
> **If you're new to me and my writing, hi, I love you anyway! You probably think I'm crazy. Feel free to check out me on[tumblr.](http://www.foxerica.tumblr.com)**
> 
>  
> 
> Happy New Year's everyone! I hope you have an incredible 2015! Love you, xo.


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